Fallen
by Takada Saiko
Summary: One-shots following Robert Svane through his journey to becoming the Revenant Bobo Del Rey. Not written in chronological order. Pre-canon through current events in SyFy's Wynonna Earp.
1. The Return

**The Return**

He woke up in the church. It was quiet and strange, like he'd passed out alone and woken up all the same.

But he hadn't. There was no missing time between the world around him fading away, the infection from the wound he'd suffered on Wyatt's behalf finally taking him to his grave and when he woke, sitting on the floor of the church where he'd finally gone to in hopes of some sort of salvation. Every moment between was accounted for in burning agony. Torture and screaming and anguish filled every second. Just thinking about it now sent a horrified chill down his spine. He was a good man. He'd been a good, God fearing man. He hadn't belonged in hell.

Robert Svane loosed a shaky breath, his hand trembling as it moved to his chest, checking for the festering wound that had done him in. He grit his teeth, tugging at his collar and as he pulled it back until he found everything intact. Skin smooth and there wasn't so much as a scar left from where the bullet that had passed through him to kill the demon Clootie.

Blue eyes closed briefly as he pulled in a deep breath, finding the air rushing into his lungs without a hitch. It didn't choke him halfway down as it had just before his death and it didn't burn as it had for those…. Days? Weeks? He still wasn't sure how long he'd screamed in pain as flames bit at him.

Robert stood slowly, his long legs holding him easily enough and he looked around. The church was empty. He moved forward carefully, each step uncertain. His mind was muddled - a strange sensation within itself - struggling to piece together… something. He just wasn't sure. There was something he needed to remember. Why he was here.

 _Clootie cursed him, and all those killed by Peacemaker. Destined for hell. You'll be resurrected upon Wyatt's death. Revenants, you'll be called. To hound and kill each and every Earp heir. Around and around it goes._

His step faltered, his leg giving under him as the words crashed into him. The curse. It had begun. That must mean Wyatt was dead. Long fingers gripped at the pew he'd caught himself on and he steadied himself. If Wyatt was dead, his son would be caught up in a curse he had nothing to do with. Others would have come back as well. All seventy-seven people that Wyatt had put down with Peacemaker. It had all begun, and he had been and was helpless to stop it.

"You've had better days, from the looks of it."

Robert spun, finding a face that he'd almost forgotten. It was weather-worn and creased, and he knew better than to fully trust that smile. "Juan Carlos."

"It's been a while," the old priest told him as Robert's blue gaze traveled up and down, taking in the strange style of his clothes.

"How long?"

"Little over forty years," Juan Carlos answered. "Word hasn't even made it that Wyatt passed, but his death swept through the Ghost River Triangle, bringing with it every last demon he put down with it. Hard to miss, if you know what you're looking for."

Robert shuddered just a little at the thought. "And you? How are you still here?"

The older man shrugged just a little and Robert caught a whiff of alcohol from his breath as he moved closer. It looked like some things never changed. "We're all tied together in what we did." His dark gaze shifted to catch Robert's. "They're here, Robert. All the ones that Wyatt put in the ground. His son will be drawn here by the curse soon enough and it'll begin. I…. can't interfere. It's my burden, but you-"

"What about me?" the Revenant snarled, his temper flaring suddenly and all at once the uncertainty that he'd felt was replaced with seething anger. He could feel hell's flames burning down his back as he took hold of Juan Carlos' collar and he was in his face. "What about me, Padre? How different am I now?"

Juan Carlos raised his hands as if showing he wasn't a threat. "That's for you to decide, Robert."

"I didn't get a choice when I was pulled into this curse," Robert growled, still not releasing the other man and his vision was tinged red. "I _died_ for Wyatt and he left me here to rot." For John Henry. Always for John Henry. Even in the end, even with what he sacrificed, Robert couldn't match up to Doc Holliday in Wyatt's eyes.

"That doesn't change who you've always been. You're a decent man, Robert."

"I _was_ ," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. He held the priest's gaze for a long moment before he loosed a breath that sounded more like a low growl and finally released him. "I was, but hell burns the good right out of a man."

He sank back against the pew behind him, reaching up to find that his spectacles hadn't returned with him, nor did he did them to see clearly.

"That doesn't mean you don't have a choice," Juan Carlos said. "When his son comes to Purgatory-"

"The other Revenants will tear him to pieces."

"He could use a friend on his side. Someone that understands what's happening."

"Oh yes, help the Heir and paint a target on my back from here 'till eternity. Why don't you go put your neck in the noose for him?"

"I can't interfere."

"Seems to be what you're doing right now," Robert snapped and moved passed the other man, starting for the exit.

"I can't tell you what to do, Robert, but I can deliver something." He held a battered, folded set of papers out. "Wyatt asked me to get these to you when he realized…" He cleared his throat and waved the papers just a little. "Take them. Read them… or don't."

Robert snatched them away, and was halfway out the door when Juan Carlos spoke again. "Where will you go? You can't leave the triangle."

"Thought I'd take a page from your book," Robert answered lowly. "I need a drink."

"I didn't think you drank."

He snorted. "No time like your first time back from hell to start."

* * *

Notes: I've been wanting to jump into some light Bobo Del Rey fanfic'ing for a bit now, but I've just now had the plot bunnies really bite. This will be a set of one-shots, more or less connected, as they will be based off of what we know of canon while I'm writing them. I hope you guys enjoy. I haven't been able to find any other Bobo fanfiction, but I hope others start writing for him as well soon!

This is my first Wynonna Earp fic, so I'd love some feedback on how the voices are coming across!


	2. Secrets

**Secrets**

Summary: Bobo finds little Waverly traipsing through the snow.

* * *

She was traipsing across the soft snow with the determination worthy of her family namesake. More worthy than some that had had better claims to it, he'd wager as he watched the little girl from his perch back out of her line of sight.

While spring was creeping up on the Ghost River Triangle it was hardly warm, and she looked like she had taken off in a rage, barely tugging on a jacket twice her size. Now she was calf deep in snow that had been packed down enough that her slight weight wouldn't have mattered just days before, but the sun breaking through the clouds and the slightly warmer weather had loosened it.

He had no idea what she was doing out there all by herself. Ward was off doing whatever Ward Earp did at this hour, but the girl's mother should have been watching her. Instead she was alone, cheeks red and tear-streaked over some wrongdoing, and she was nearing the edge of the Homestead.

That wouldn't do. There were plenty of Revenants that would see the little Earp baby as a chance to snuff her father out. Of the handful of Heirs that had come and gone since Wyatt died, Ward was nothing special, but the child would be collateral damage. He wouldn't let Waverly become collateral damage. Not his little angel.

Her toe snagged something beneath the powder and she fell headlong into the snow, a startled sound escaping her and she lay there for a moment, unmoving, and he flicked his cigarette into the wet snow, rising part way from his crouched position. He waited, watching, unsure exactly what he planned to do about it. The ammolite that kept the other Revenants off the Earp land kept him off just as well. If he so much as tried to go to her it would blow him away like a dried leaf in the wind.

Finally the little girl pulled herself up. Her face and front end were covered with snow and she looked at her empty hands. Big, wet tears gathered and she started to dig, the sobs choking her and she wasn't finding what she was looking for.

And then he saw it, just on his side of the fence, a bent and broken little tin toy. It looked as if someone had taken a boot to it, crunching it hard against equally hard ground to the point that he wasn't even sure what it had been before. He reached out, the little figure flying to his palm when called, and he moved carefully to place it on the edge of the fence, using her distraction with the dig so that she wouldn't even notice.

But she did notice. He'd been silent, his boots not making a sound in the soft snow, and he froze where he was as two large, bloodshot blue eyes looked up at him. He'd watched her for four years now. He'd seen her grow and laugh and play. He'd seen her hug on the middle sister and the eldest tease her relentlessly as, if memory served, siblings always did. He'd seen her, but she hadn't seen him. Not until right then, and if he didn't say something, he thought she might start crying out of fear this time.

"Hi." He crouched down in the snow, his movements very slow and as unimposing as he could make them. Long fingers uncurled from around her toy and he set it on the fence edge. "Is this what you're looking for?"

Waverly Earp blinked hard, tears still escaping one at a time, and she nodded.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he promised.

"Daddy said not to go on the other side of the fence."

Well, at least Ward had done that much. "That's smart," he told her, "and you're pretty smart, aren't you?"

She nodded, almost as if she wasn't sure that was the answer that he wanted, even if it was correct.

He did his best to let his expression soften - something so strange after so many years of hardening it, making the mask impenetrable to any that might be looking - and he smiled for her. "Here." He pushed the crumbled figurine towards her. "You can get it from that side."

Waverly moved forward, never breaking eye contact with him, and he remained completely still as she snagged it, holding it to her chest protectively.

"What happened?"

She frowned and looked at it again. "Willa's mean. She stomped it."

"Ah," he said softly.

"It was a cat," Waverly told him, taking a step back towards the fence again, this time a little braver than before. "See? It had ears and a nose here." She held it out for him to inspect and he tilted his head. All of a sudden she was at the fence, her little fingers wrapped around the wood and he found himself staring straight into those bright blue eyes. So innocent. So naive. He wondered how long she could stay that way. "Can you fix it?"

He blinked. "Why would I be able to fix it?" he asked softly, and he saw that clever little mind working for an answer that she couldn't have possibly known.

"Dunno," she said with a shrug.

He held out his hand and she put it in his palm without hesitation. "This can be our secret," he told her.

"Really? I get to know a secret?"

"Mm, but just you."

"Not even Willa and Wynonna?"

"Nope."

"Not Daddy?"

"Nope."

She thought about it for a long moment and finally nodded, her blonde hair falling in her face. "Okay."

He shifted, steadying himself in the squatted position he was still in, and placed his other hand over the toy. He felt the metal shifting, moving where he told it to, until it formed up what she'd described as the toy before her big sister had mutilated it.

Waverly's eyes grew wide as he uncovered it and her smile could have lit the entire world. "It's pretty again!"

He set it on the fence for her and she snagged it, inspecting it. "Why'd your sister break it?" he asked, glancing up towards the house. The last thing he wanted was Ward traipsing out looking for his youngest and finding him there. Most days the Earp Heir knew it was in his best interest to keep the Revenants' leader above ground, but there were days with a lot of whisky and a quick temper. Thankfully his aim was nowhere near what his great granddaddy's had been, even with Peacemaker's help.

"She's mad," Waverly told him, still looking it over. "She's mad 'cause Mama left. She said it's my fault."

Interesting. He hadn't heard that Ward's wife had finally had enough. He wasn't surprised. Not really, but he was surprised she hadn't taken the girls with her as she fled. It wouldn't have been impossible, even if something or the other would have eventually brought Willa back by the time she came of age.

Her little voice was so sad and he frowned just a little. He shouldn't care. She was a child and children cried one second and were giggling the next. It would pass. She would adapt. In the grand scheme of everything that was happening around them, this was not something he needed to concern himself with, but somehow he was. Very concerned, and he leaned against the sturdy wood of the fence, feeling the buzz of the ammolite that threatened to send him flying.

She sniffed. "Mama gave it to me. Willa misses her, so I told her she could play with the it. She stomped it and told me it was my fault."

"It's not your fault, Angel." The words escaped him before he gave them permission.

She looked up and wiped at her tears with the back of her sleeve. She sniffed one more time and stuck her hand through the opening. "I'm Waverly. Waverly Earp," she told him matter of factly, a funny sense of pride for someone so young echoing in the way she said her family name. "What's your name?"

He stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his breath showing as he loosed it. He shouldn't be here. Too much was at stake, and if he took a wrong step he'd be screaming amongst the flames until Ward died and Willa turned twenty-seven. There was too much to do and he couldn't miss his opportunities as they arose. It was one thing to watch from a distance, but to be there with her? To shake her tiny little hand and tell her his name? It was risky. She was a child. She would talk.

"You don't wanna be friends?" Waverly asked, sounding hurt by the notion.

"'Course I do, Angel. Who wouldn't wanna be your friend?" She beamed at him and he shook that small hand.

"Our secret," she promised him, almost as if reading his discomfort. It was impossible. She was a clever little girl, but she was still a little girl. Surely that was impossible.

"Our secret," he agreed and stood. "Go get warm."

"Will you come back?"

"Yeah."

"Promise?"

A tiny smirk tilted his lips. "Promise," he assured her.

She grinned at him and turned, but before she took too many steps out of earshot he spoke again. "Bobo."

"That's your name?"

"That's my name."

"That's a funny name," she giggled and darted off, clutching her newly-restored tin kitty in her hand.

Bobo watched her go, an old promise to never hurt his angel playing through his mind like a memory of a dream. It had felt like a dream for so long, and hell had nearly burned the memory right out of him, but then he'd heard the Earp baby's name - _Waverly_ \- and he'd known. He'd remembered, and he'd thought that maybe, just maybe, he might still be able to do _something_ right.

* * *

Notes: Baby Waves is a lot of fun to write. I just kind of want to scoop her up and protect her from Willa.


	3. Reckoning

**Reckoning**

 _What happened to Bobo between the cave-in and meeting Doc outside of the mine?_

* * *

The mine came crashing down around them. Bobo ducked down, shielding his head, but felt something hit hard. The next thing he knew was that he was flattened out on his stomach, staring into the dirt. Everything around him was still and quiet, having already settled from the cave-in. He'd lost time. That wasn't good. It gave him less of a chance to slip away.

Carefully he shifted, feeling the aches and pains that would fade shortly. The rocks on top of him moved as he commanded them and he felt the mark on his back burn deeply with the effort. A low growl escaped him as the final one moved to let him shift to his knees, finally getting a view of the mine around him.

Bobo jerked back when he came face to face with the demon he had helped Wyatt put in the ground over a hundred years before. He froze, schooling his expression as best he could, but his nose turned up as the demon took hold of his hair and tugged him back hard. He leaned in, almost as if inspecting him, and the smell of rotting flesh enough to make Bobo nauseous.

" _Robert Svane_ ," Clootie hissed and the Revenant growled lowly in response, clever mind working for his best option. The demon was down a hand, down a wife - maybe two, he didn't see the other - but power still lurked there, and as one that was brought back by his curse, that power affected him. Something inside him instinctively knew and he was drawn to it, his eyes lulled closed for a moment as he felt that power wrapping around him. _Don't fight. You're already mine._

He heard the words in his head and he tried to pull away suddenly, the grip on his mowhawk holding him in place on his knees in front of the demon who had done this to him. He had to remember that. He had to remember who the enemy really was. As troublesome as Wynonna Earp was on most of her days, ending Clootie was a common goal. It always had been, and he fought to remember that as he felt that power working at his mind to loosen his resolve.

A low, throaty chuckle came from the creature that had ahold of him. "Robert Svane," he repeated, "you've changed. Outside and in."

Bobo looked up, his teeth clicking together as he forced himself to meet those unnatural eyes. "Hell does that to a man."

"Even I hadn't quite hoped to be able to take _you_ down with the curse. Wyatt loved you dearly. It must have broken his heart to know what you'd become."

Clootie sounded positively giddy at the thought and Bobo grunted a mirthless laugh. "Jokes on you then. Wyatt never knew."

"He left you there? After everything you did for him, he left you to die alone?"

It was like a knife twisting in him, ripping at the old wound Bobo had never really recovered from. Clootie knew that though. Bobo could feel him inside his head, rummaging for something useful. He needed to get out. He needed to get away.

"No," Clootie said, the word riding out on a breath. "You're not going anywhere. You're mine."

" _No_ ," Bobo snarled, trying to pull away. He lifted a hand to drag one of the rocks in at the demon's head, but Clootie deflected it, smiling terribly at him.

"You are powerful, but even you don't know your potential. Don't you get tired of fighting, Robert? Of placing your faith in the family of a man that betrayed you so deeply?"

"I ain't got a lot of faith left, and certainly not for the Earps."

Clootie pulled him roughly, forcing him to look up again. "You can't lie to me, Robert. You are mine. The curse made sure if that."

Bobo remained silent, his teeth bared and tensed with the effort to fight him. Every inch of him seemed inclined to give to the Demon Clootie's wishes. He wouldn't give. He was his own. After everything, he needed to hold onto that at the very least.

"No you're not," Clootie whispered into his ear, replying to the unspoken thoughts, and his grip tightened. Bobo gasped out, his lungs unable to drag enough air into them and he stared up at the demon. Those gold eyes were glowing and he could feel him draining him. His energy, his power, his _will_. Bobo wasn't sure if he had a soul left, but if he did he was certain that Clootie had a grip on it, shredding anything left of it.

"Wyatt betrayed you. Serve me, and you'll have your revenge for it," the demon promised. "All that…. pain and suffering you've endured, and he couldn't bother to be with you when you slipped away. Serve me, and that pain and suffering won't be for nothing."

Bobo was trembling now, held up by Clootie's grip and he could feel his brand on his back burning at the touch. His entire body was on fire and he was so, so tired. He just wanted it to end once and for all. He'd learned long ago to only let people see what he wanted them to see, but Clootie knew. Clootie understood what he'd been through because he could see it in his mind. He'd been fighting, he'd been playing the game, all in hopes to bring an end to it and to somehow walk free for the curse.

But freedom was an illusion for him. It had been the moment that Wyatt had shot him. Since Wyatt had damned him.

If he'd ever held onto the friendship they'd shared, those images began to fade away. The conversations, the laughter, the devotion. They faded from his mind and were replaced with a seething rage that he usually kept in better check. A hate that burned like the fires of hell itself.

"You loved him more than you hated him. It's been your secret for so long, but it's been your your weakness too, Robert," Clootie whispered, though if it was out loud or in his mind, Bobo couldn't tell. As the rage filled him he felt his strength returning and he got his feet under him, finally released as he stood, tilting his head and looking at the demon. He'd been a fool. He could see that now, clearer than he'd ever seen anything. He'd been a fool.

Clootie smiled, the skin covering his face just a little less rotted than before, though hardly whole, and his teeth were blackened. Even so, there was power there. Intoxicating power. "Will you serve me, Robert?"

"Yes."

"Prove it. Prove to me that you've let go of everything you were. Give me something you hold dear. Someone you've sworn to protect. Waverly Earp."

Bobo drew a sharp breath, finding no urge to fight the demand. He gave a small bow, arms stretched out in a dramatic motion. "As you wish, Master."

A low chuckle escaped the demon and Bobo heard a name in his mind. Bulshar. No one had known it before. He'd only been the Demon Clootie, but now he would be so much more.

"You and I will bring a reckoning, Robert. First to Purgatory, wiping out Wyatt's line, and then beyond." He perked up, looking over towards the entrance to the mine. "But first, deal with Holliday."

"With pleasure."

* * *

Notes: While the finale was phenomenal on almost every level, as a Bobo fan I walked away Friday night very disappointed. I'm a redemption arc kind of girl, and after 2.08 I had my hopes set that the season would end with him showing up at Shorty's or something and aligning with Wynonna and the rest of her team. Alas, he ended up in the bottom of the well screaming about his master and a reckoning.

The thing is, something happened there, and not just ta change in hair style *cough*helloMartin*cough*

I'm still convinced that Bobo's been playing a long game all this time. I think he holds a pretty significant grudge against his old friend, but people are complicated, and hurt and betrayal complicates a person even more. Right up until the cave-in he was dragging his feet, seemed very entertained when the sisters started bickering and Mercedes chopped Clootie's arm off. I think he still thought he had a chance to slip away then, but the next time we see him he's all white-haired and following Clootie like a devoted little puppy. That's not Bobo. He's not a follower and he has to know that Clootie wouldn't just let him out of this after being so instrumental in putting him in the ground to begin with. Something had to have happened, and when I have questions I write fics, so here we are.

Anyone else have any thoughts about it?


	4. A Little Bit of Goodness

**A Little Bit of Goodness**

 _Summary: Waverly falls through the ice and Bobo is there to protect her._

* * *

The sound of the ice breaking and the shrill, childish scream that followed it tore through the early morning air. He hadn't meant to be anywhere near the Homestead. Even with the talisman buried to deactivate the ammolite it was best to stay off the Earp land unless he wanted to risk a premature trip down south. He was though, and the voice he'd come to know well over the last five and a half years sent him flying over the line.

Snow crunched under heavy boots and Bobo saw the hole where the ice had begun to thin where the little girl had fallen through. He saw her head pop up once, gasping and sputtering, but then she was pulled back down under the water's surface.

He made his way across the ice, hearing it crack a little under his weight, and he slid to the edge. She'd slipped under again and he reached in, feeling for her beneath the water's surface. He could go in after her. If he needed to he would, but getting back out would be a trick. The ice was barely holding him now, and if he tried to climb back out of the hole he'd likely find it too weak to hold him.

Bobo felt something under the water and he latched on, hauling little Waverly Earp out by the collar of her jacket and scurrying back as quickly as he could before the ice cracked all the way through and sent them both tumbling back in.

She was shivering. That was a good sign, at least. He sat there for just a moment, checking to make sure she was breathing and scooped her up off the ice as she gave a struggling cough. "I'm here. I've got you, Waverly. Angel," he said softly and her blue eyes opened sluggishly.

"Bobo," she managed and snuggled closer.

He moved to the side of the lake, finding a place where the hill blocked the crisp wind. He glanced around, finding the area deserted, and frowned a little. It wasn't like he could just waltz her up to the Earp family home and tuck her safely in bed. It was dangerous enough to be where he was right then.

But she was so tiny and barely awake. Her movements were sluggish and he needed to get her warm, not send her marching off home alone.

A soft growl escaped him and he shrugged off his fur coat, feeling the bite if the cold through his thin shirt as he did. He picked Waverly up and wrapped the heavy furs around her. He'd meant to let her use it as a pallet, wrapped up in it to warm up, but before he could get her settled back down she leaned in, curled up against him and she gave a soft little sigh.

"Hey," he coaxed, shifting a little so she would stir. "Stay awake."

"You're warm. I like your coat."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer so that she could snuggle down into it. They sat there for several long minutes until some of the shivers had subsided and she peeked up a bit. "Bobo?"

"Yeah, Angel?" he answered, his voice rough.

"You're my best friend," she said, her voice holding a certainty that was absolute.

He sat there for a long moment, processing the words, or at least trying to. There was so much trust there. Unwarranted, untested trust. She had no idea what he was or what he - or those that followed him - could do to her and those she loved. It was part of the curse, that drive to utterly destroy the Earp family line. Bobo held them back, readjusted their focus when the situation allowed it, but even he had to fight it now and again, and there had been times that he'd turned a blind eye to an Earp heir Andrew the Revenants do as they would. Waverly didn't know anything about that though, and she never questioned him. Not for the first time, he wondered how a man like Ward Earp had ended up with so much goodness in his life.

Bobo looked up at the sound of a voice drifting across the snowy land and Waverly stirred against him as her name became a little clearer over the hill. "Wynonna?" she mumbled, finally sitting up.

He let her, even though she took his coat with her as she stood, dragging it along the snow. She seemed steadier now, even if she was still soaked through, and she peeked over the lower point of the hill. "It's Wynonna," she told him, turning to look at him.

That worked out. He could get her to the sister that was more likely to get her home. "Better get going," he told her gruffly, shifting so he was crouched with his feet under him.

Waverly paused for just a moment there, staring at him, but finally she started to untangle herself from the fur coat that was swallowing her, moving a little faster as Wynonna's voice drew closer. He was her secret, and in the time since he had started to visit her regularly, he was a secret she'd never spilled. He would have heard about it if she had.

She held it out and Bobo's cold-stiffened fingers latched around the fur. As soon as he had a good grip, she launched herself forward, taking advantage of the way he was crouched, and threw her arms around his neck. The hug ended almost as quickly as it had begun and the little girl pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek. "Thank you, Bobo," she whispered.

He watched her go up and over the hill and Wynonna Earp's voice sounded a little more frightened. "Waverly! What happened? Are you okay?"

"I fell through the ice," the younger sister said. "I'm okay though."

Bobo waited there, listening to them as Wynonna checked her over and told her to come with her to the house. Their voices moved further and further away and he closed his eyes. She was okay. His little angel was going to be okay.

Once the voices had faded far enough that he was certain it was safe to move he stood, wrapping his coat back around himself and started for the fence line. He'd been on Earp land far too long already. It was worth it though. He might not deserve it either, but just a little goodness had dropped into his life in the form of Waverly Earp and if he had to take a risk to protect his angel, it was well worth it.

* * *

Notes: I'm kind of in love with the idea of Bobo being all sweet and gentle with little Waverly and her just adoring him. It's such a nice juxtapose to what he'd have in every other part of his life right then.


	5. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

 _In the wake of Ward's death (and his way out), Bobo has to find his next step._

* * *

It was late, and while most of Purgatory was crawling into their warm beds in their safe little homes, the trailer park was in the full swing of celebration. Music blared, a bonfire lit the sky, and no one would say a damn thing. The Earp Heir was dead, shot by his own daughter with Wyatt's own gun. The new Sheriff Nedley was in over his head and his officers had been run off the property without shutting down the party that had been going for a week straight and didn't seem to be winding down any time soon. The fact that they had gotten off as easily as they had and hadn't been ripped limb from limb was a miracle within itself with the way things were going. There was very little controlling them when they got like this. No point in trying.

"You don't look happy, boss. Why ain'tcha happy?"

Bobo Del Rey turned his glower on the Revenant that had spoken, not bothering to straighten from his hunched over perch on the hood of the old, rundown car just outside the circle of drunk, whooping demons and their human familiars. He didn't say anything, but watched his silence make the other increasingly more nervous with each second that passed. Finally he rolled his eyes, digging out his pack of cigarettes. He knew his mood was sour when watching them trip over themselves bored him. " _What_?" he demanded, and the Revenant was reaching forward with trembling hands to light his cigarette for him.

"Y-you said to let ya know if the law came back."

Bobo loosed a frustrating snarl as he pushed himself off the car hood. He should toss whatever poor soul that idiot Nedley had sent into the pit of drunken Revenants. That'd teach him how this town worked. The sooner he got it through his head the sooner things would even back out. The demons would drink themselves into a stupor soon enough and the law would learn. As long as they kept to themselves the humans should do the same. There was a balance that kept things moving. Ward had gotten that. Of all his complaints about the late Heir, he had at least understood that sometimes you had to give to take. He'd about been ready to give what Bobo had needed to take freedom for his girls. They were going to end this damn curse, but no. Things had gotten out of hand, and then the Seven had wanted to kill the oldest Earp girl. Trembling, terrified little Willa Earp. She had tried so hard to be brave.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, flattening the mohawk down as he walked, his cigarette dangling from his lips. He took a long drag as he rounded the corner, a little surprised to see Randy Nedley standing there. Well, he was an idiot, wasn't he? Maybe he'd run out of cops to send.

Bobo flicked the butt of his cigarette at the new sheriff's feet, watching it bounce off his boot. "Nedley, to what do I owe the displeasure?"

Nedley looked him up and down. They'd had a couple of run ins over the years, all with Ward heading up the conversation. Bobo didn't think that he had the full story. Most people didn't. They just instinctively knew who held the power in this town, especially with a dead Heir. Usually it wasn't voiced. It looked like it would continue to go unvoiced, even if not unnoticed. " _Sheriff_ Nedley now. You sent one of my officers to the hospital earlier tonight."

" _I_ haven't touched any of your boys," Bobo answered, flashing his teeth as he smiled. "If he came onto this land and started… riling one of my boys up, well. Guess he got what's coming to 'im."

"Listen here, Bobo. I'm not just gonna let you-"

" _Let_ me?" Bobo asked, moving towards the man and he leaned in. "Do tell, _Sheriff_. What are you going to _let_ me do?"

To his credit, Nedley didn't flinch. He held his ground as Bobo snarled and he could see the anger in the Human's eyes. There were rumours about what went down at the Homestead that night. No one had any proof and they wouldn't get close enough to get any, but there were rumours, and if Bobo had to place his bet, he'd have bet Nedley believed little Wynonna Earp wasn't as crazy as everyone said she was. That he knew the Revenants had had something to do with it, even if he didn't know what they were called.

There just wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Nedley snorted, eyeing the collection of Revenants and familiars that had gathered to see if the boss man would leave the new sheriff breathing for at least one more night. "Keep it down, Bobo. And keep your boys in check."

Bobo held his gaze for a long moment, daring him to say more. When he didn't he cracked a grin, waving. "Buh-bye."

Laughter echoed behind him and Bobo straightened a little. The Revenants around him started to disperse, heading back to the bonfire. He grabbed one by the collar. "That fire spreads and it'll be you that gets thrown in, got it?"

"G-got it, boss," the trembling Revenant managed. Bobo released him and watched him dart back with the others. That would keep them busy for a while without things getting _too_ out of hand. He needed a break. And possibly a drink, but definitely a break.

He pulled a cigarette out and lit it as he walked, his boots kicking at the snow at his feet and he inhaled the smoke, feeling it travel down his throat and into his lungs, releasing the nicotine into his system. It had all gone so wrong so fast. It had taken a long while for him to convince Ward that he wasn't planning to use this to double cross him. Heirs were naturally slow to trust him, and after the first one he hadn't been overly quick to trust them either. It usually didn't matter, but this time… this time it'd mattered. This time he'd been so damn close he could feel it.

He was going to walk free of the curse. Finally, after everything, he was going to breathe free air again.

And then the shot had gone off and Ward had cried out. The middle sister had stood there, Peacemaker trembling in her hand, and that's when everything had gone to shit. The Seven had known the plan - take the Heir and no one was to harm the baby - but without the Heir they were ready to tear his daughter apart. There was no reasoning with them, no smooth words to coax them out of their bloodlust frenzy. There was only the promise.

 _I'll kill her myself._

Bobo looked up towards the sky, squinting a little at the flecks of snow that were falling down. He had walked all the way out to the Reservoir. It didn't surprise him. He needed to check in anyway.

There was a small light in the window, like a kerosene lamp, and he saw her silhouette in the veiled opening. She was still, but if she had seen him approaching he couldn't be sure. He moved towards the tree, fingers extending as he pulled at the metal that had been driven deeply into the trunk. The spokes came out towards him as he called, forming a ladder of sorts, and he started climbing. It was dark and late, but he'd promised to be by that day. After everything, his word still meant something. Most of the time.

He wrapped his knuckles against the door and waited. There was a sound inside, but then no word and he pushed it open very slightly and waited, listening for word that he shouldn't enter.

It came in the form of a dull knife bouncing off the wood, aimed about where his head was and he sighed. He'd had too long of a day to come here to this.

"Are you done?" he groused, pushing it the rest of the way open.

Willa Earp glared at him. "I can see it from here, you know. I know what they're doing. They're celebrating. My daddy's dead and they're _celebrating_."

"They are," Bobo answered honestly as he entered the treehouse. "And as far as they know, you're dead too. You're welcome."

"I didn't thank you."

"I didn't exactly expect Ward to teach you girls manners."

She was on her feet and taking a swing at him now, her small fist landing where he'd been standing just seconds before as he stepped back and out of her way. Well, she hadn't settled down any since his last visit. She might have even gotten worse.

"You son of a bitch!" Willa growled.

He caught the next swing, his grip loose around her wrist but holding it firm. "You got a mouth on you, little Earp. You need to keep it shut if you know what's good for you. You may be pissed at me, but I saved your life. What they'd of done to you…." Bobo closed his eyes, reining himself in. She was a child. She might be the future Heir, but she was a child. It'd been a long time since he'd had to remind himself how to speak to one.

"Don't try to make it sound better. You took me prisoner. You want me… for something."

Bobo let her wrist go. "I ain't gonna hurt you," he said lowly, taking a step back.

"What, demons don't hurt little girls?" she popped off and he snorted. He found her watching him, curious and wary. "So what _are_ you going to do with me?"

That wasn't the question, wasn't it? He huffed, taking a heavy seat on a chair that he'd brought up for her. The treehouse was old and rundown, hardly ever used, and he'd had to be careful over the last week. Bringing food was one thing, but bringing too much else while they were watching could get people curious. The last thing he needed was one of the Seven coming to the treehouse and finding the young, future-Heir hidden away by their leader. That might be difficult to explain. He'd put a lot of work into scaring the other Revenants into submission over the years. He had no interest in having to start over.

"Hey!" Willa Earp growled, snapping her fingers in front of his face to gain his attention.

Bobo blinked at her.

"Whatever Daddy promised you? I'm never going to give it to you," she told him firmly. "Never."

He stood, towering above her and she crossed her arms over her chest and leveling a glare worthy of her name. She was a spitfire, and maybe she'd be willing to help him someday, maybe she wouldn't. Constance Clootie was already dropping hints after the failed attempt at escape. She hadn't gotten past his boys to him yet, but he'd heard the whispers. She had a lead. Something other than the prophesy. He just had to give her something in return.

Bobo couldn't see the future and at this point, with his hopes dashed again, he didn't dare bet on it. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with her, but she was Wyatt's blood. He didn't stick his neck too far out for them anymore, but most of them in the crosshairs of a hunting party weren't children either. "You," he snarled, leaning in and finally watching her flinch, "need to keep quiet. They think you're dead, and that's the only thing keeping you safe. Who would you rather go up against? The one that saved you or all of them that want to tear you apart?"

That sent her shrinking back just a little and Bobo pushed a long breath through his nose, nodding a little and starting for the door. He needed to go before he said something that he regretted.

"Hey." He turned, finding her standing there. "Could you bring me some paper and pencils?"

"Why?"

"I like to draw. It's boring up here."

A long moment ticked by. "I can manage that."

"And a burger from Shorty's?"

Bobo's lips twitched at the corners. "Don't get greedy, little Earp" he said, but he saw the way her expression eased very slightly. She heard the rough attempt at a tease.

He wasn't sure what would happen, but somehow he wanted to save Willa Earp. Somehow he wanted to give her a chance to survive.

* * *

Notes: I have such mixed feelings about Willa, I really do. But I do love Nedley, especially after this season. I hope to have him pop in and out of these stories as he's trying to get his footing under him as sheriff.


	6. In It Together

**In it Together**

 _Robert Svane tries to keep a low profile as the newly resurrected Revenants tear through Purgatory upon Wyatt's death, but trouble seems to find him in more ways than one._

* * *

The world around him had changed in the last forty-some-odd years and Robert hadn't been there to see it. It was a learning curve, and one he hadn't been prepared for. Not that he'd been particularly prepared to die and come back as a demon. That hadn't been the intent when he'd told Wyatt to take the shot.

Chaos had rained down on the little town of Purgatory the first few weeks after the resurrections. He knew some of the faces of the men that were thieving and raping and killing, throwing the new sheriff - well, maybe not so new, but new to them - into a fit trying to keep up with them. Robert kept his head down as best as he could, watching as eyes flashed red when he looked too long. If he and Wyatt had thought it was bad under Clootie, this was quickly spiralling even further out of control as every outlaw Wyatt had put down raged against their prison. If Wyatt's son had made it to Purgatory yet, he certainly hadn't made himself known.

The saloon had become his own personal haunt. He'd never been much of a drinker, but as time ticked on he found that it was his only escape. He had no way to leave the area - he'd tried crossing the line, testing the parameters, but had found that to be a painful mistake on his part - and the townsfolk were looking at strangers with suspicion worthy of everything that was happening around them. They didn't know. How could they? They'd been caught up in the Earp Curse the same as he had himself, even if they had a much quicker escape than he did.

"The boys don't know you."

Robert pulled in a deep breath, focusing on the half-empty glass in front of him and hoping to everything that the burly man to his right would go away if he ignored him hard enough.

"Hey," he said, shoving Robert a bit, "you deaf?"

"Just trying to enjoy my drink alone," the dark haired man said, blue eyes shifting just a little to glare at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Who are you?"

"No one," he huffed, and wasn't that the truth? He was no one. Nothing. He'd been a shield and a useful tool tossed away the moment it'd served its purpose. This was exactly why he didn't like to talk to others at the saloon. He wasn't even sure if he was Human or Revenant. Either way it would be best to avoid him.

"No, I know your face. I saw you some…. _years_ ago," he said," the other said, leaning in towards Robert as if he were trying to goad a response out of him. He was testing him. Revenant, then. If he actually knew him or recognized him was anyone's best guess.

"Please, I just want some peace." His voice was a bit more pleading than he'd been going for and a terrifying grin split the Revenant's face. He'd just made himself a target. Only a couple of weeks in and he'd managed to make himself a target.

"You know where you are, friend?" he asked, pulling the stool closer. "We've taken over this place."

"And who's we?" Robert popped off, his nerves rubbed raw, but he regretted it instantly as the creature took hold of his collar, all but dragging him from his seat.

"I think you know," the other Revenant snarled, eyes flashing red in Robert's face. He could see the others gathering behind him. There were at least five, eyes glowing and dangerous. From what he knew of the curse, they couldn't kill him, but they could certainly bring the pain.

The first one threw him off the stool, sending him tumbling into the mix. Robert stumbled, finding himself landing on his knees in front of a drawn weapon. "Let's see if he bleeds like us," the Revenant said.

Robert brought a hand up, hoping to shield himself, and he forced himself to meet the other's eyes. A pair of red eyes went wide suddenly, returning to their original grey as blood dribbled out of his mouth he tilted slowly, falling to his knees in front of Robert and as he fell face first, Wyatt's friend saw the knife buried in his back.

The others froze, looking around, but no attacker was evident. Robert swallowed hard as another gun swiveled around to him and before he knew what was happening it was being ripped from the hand and pulled into his own. He was doing it.

That same realization seemed to spread as the others backed away, eyes wide and Robert could see the fear made evident in the way their eyes lit red, hell's brand showing on their faces. He stood slowly, dusting himself off, and he let his own eyes flash red as he straightened. "Now," he said, his voice steadier with a power he'd never known during his life as a Human rushing through him, "get."

They scurried as instructed and he waited until they were gone to loose the breath he'd drawn. It left him shakily and he closed his eyes, the gun feeling heavier in his hand now as he turned and set it in the bar, eyes on him from all around, but no one dared to comment. He knocked back the rest of his drink, feeling it burn all the way down.

"May I join you, friend?"

Robert turned, finding a thin man standing there with an amused look in his eyes. He snorted, motioning before turning to the barkeep to signal for another one.

"You have a gift."

"I have a curse," Robert answered immediately.

"As do so many here in the beautiful town of Purgatory," his new companion answered. "A few have shown… talents since we woke up. Nothing like that though."

"Your point?"

"People will talk."

Of course they would. He'd hoped to lie low longer than this though.

"Lou Maddock," He introduced, extending his hand. "And who might you be?"

Robert finally looked over to him, finding him watching him curiously and waiting, but he didn't move to take the hand.

"Come now, friend. We're all in this together. You won't last on your own. Gotta trust someone, right?"

He loosed a breath. It was only a matter of time anyway. "Robert. Svane," He finally answered, grasping the still-extended hand.

Lou's eyes widen just a bit. "I know that name. No wonder you've been lying low." He chuckled as he sipped at his own drink. "May want to choose a new one."

He knew him, but he was still sitting there. Still drinking with him. He didn't seem afraid, even as the Revenant behind them groaned, resurrecting slowly with the knife still deep in his back.

"You don't have to worry about me. Your secret's safe."

"Why?"

Lou flashed a smile, his eyes red. "Because we're all in it together, and sooner or later the chaos will end and there'll be a few that rise to the top. I like to place my best early." He held up his glass, that smile never quite fading, and waited. Robert snorted a rough laugh and clinked his own glass to it. An alliance might not be the worse thing to form. It wasn't like they were going anywhere any time soon.

* * *

Notes: I wrote a great deal of this story yesterday while traveling, and then this morning I log onto to find a fun video of the WE panel from DragonCon and Michael talking about Bobo's trust issues and how he's been betrayed by so many people he's put his faith in. It seemed to line up nicely with this little one shot.

I'd love to know what you think of these! Are there any you'd like to see in the future?


	7. Promises

**Promises**

 _Waverly shows Bobo her drawings and asks him to make her a promise._

* * *

The day was closer to its end than its beginning, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows and the breeze was showing signs of turning cool across the Ghost River Triangle. It kicked up unexpectedly, always from the same direction as Bobo Del Rey broke from where he had been keeping to the tree line and moved into the open field. He was later than he intended and he wondered if she'd still be waiting.

She was, and he found her perched on the fence that marked the line between the Earp Homestead and the land beyond. She was bent over, a board or something in her lap, and she was scribbling away as he approached, completely unaware of anything around her. A stray twig crunched under his heavy boot and she looked up, a bright smile flashing across her face. "Bobo!"

Bobo suddenly had the youngest Earp sister launching herself at him, feet barely touching the ground as she leapt from the fence, and he took a knee to get down to her level. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he felt her bury her face into the fur-lined collar of his jacket. "Where've you been?" she asked, pulling back and turning the best glare she could muster on him.

He offered her a quirked smile. "Miss me?"

"No," she huffed and hugged him again, her actions countering the words.

"Not sure I believe you."

She grinned at him, but released him abruptly as the wind kicked up again and her papers that she had been working on scattered. Waverly leapt for them, chasing after the fleeing project. Bobo moved as well, his longer stride and curse-enhanced reflexes helping him head off some of the papers that had blown a bit further with the gust.

They were drawings, he realized as his fingers closed around a set. Crayon drawings, but not half bad for a little girl her age. Scribbled in her childish handwriting were names. _Mama_. _Daddy_. _Wynonna_. _Willa_.

In every drawing there were smiles all around except when it came to the drawings Waverly had done of herself. As Bobo flipped through the handful of pictures he saw the same, drawing after drawing.

A small huff drew his attention as the youngest Earp sister flopped dramatically on the ground next to the fence, papers crumbled in her hands and she set to straightening them out. He settled next to her, his back pressed against one of the posts, and he watched quietly as she worked.

"I can't find yours," she said after a minute.

"Mine?"

"Uh-huh."

He hadn't seen another one escape, but that didn't mean it hadn't laid itself out somewhere until the next gust of wind picked it up and gave away its position. "These are good," he prompted, choosing one from her stack. It was of all three girls and Ward standing around what looked like a table with a big cake on it, _Happy Birthday_ scrawled across so that the letters were actually longer than the cake itself. Two little girls with _Wynonna_ and _Willa_ written next to them wore little hats, like some sort of party, and even Ward had one on. Little drawing Waverly stood apart without a hat. "Where's yours?" Bobo asked, catching her gaze.

Waverly ducked her head. "I don't get birthday parties."

He wouldn't claim to know a great deal about little girls and what was normal and what wasn't, but even Bobo knew that birthday parties were something that most children had these days. Especially if their sisters did.

"But Willa and Wynonna do?"

"Daddy remembers theirs."

Bobo felt his temper flare at the meaning behind the words and pulled in a breath to steady himself before his anger showed too clearly in front of the little girl. Ward Earp was a special kind of bastard sometimes. At least Bobo had an excuse for the cruelties he dealt out. Hell burned the good right out of a man, but even he didn't take out his own disdain on a child that had no choice in the matter. Waverly might not be Ward's biologically, but there was no reason she should ever have to know that. It was no wonder she preferred spending time out with him rather than with her family.

"Look!"

Waverly's voice brought him out of his seething thoughts and he saw her leap up, chasing after the stray drawing. He held it up triumphantly when she caught it and the sadness was pushed back for a little while longer. She shoved it in his face. "It's for you," she told him cheerfully. "See? It's you and me."

There were no names on this one and Bobo's lips quirked up at the corners at the sight of a smiling Waverly in the drawing. It was the first one he'd seen her smiling in and she looked so proud of herself. This little girl was far too pure to be Ward's anyway. Clever and sweet, open and honest. She really was the goodness left in the world.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it."

"Good." She settled herself back down next to him, leaning up against him. There was no hesitation to trust him and he wrapped an arm around her. "You know what I want for my birthday, Bobo?"

"What's that, Angel?"

He felt her nestle in closet. "You."

"You got me," he swore softly.

"Always?"

He loosed a short breath through his nose. She couldn't possibly understand what always meant for someone - _something_ \- like him. She was looking at him though, with all the wonder and hope a child could muster, and he didn't think he could deny her anything. "As long as you want me, Angel."

She untangled herself from him and stood up, brushing her jeans off before extending her tiny hand. "Promise?"

Well, at least Ward had taught the kid one thing right. Bobo chuckled as he straightened, reaching his own much larger hand out to take hers. "Man's word is all he's got," he said and they shook, the promise sealed between them.

* * *

Notes: I'm having more fun than I should be allowed to have with this little series, and honestly, amidst all the betrayal and the heartache and the suffering, baby Waverly is such a breath of fresh air both to write and for poor Bobo here. Originally I was going to follow this up with a small scene of either Waverly thinking back while staring at the closed off well or Bobo remembering it from inside the well and trying to fight Clootie and losing, but then I decided I didn't want to ruin the happy fluff.

I need these two to be close again. Desperately, desperately need it.


	8. Graveside Confessions

**Graveside Confessions**

 _Bobo wakes up after Wynonna's near death experience and makes a detour to Willa's grave._

* * *

The cold was the first thing he noticed. From fire burning every inch of his skin, the flames eating at him from the outside in and then the inside out, and then suddenly his lungs were frozen so that he could barely draw a breath in. The change was sudden and jolting, leaving him attempting to gasp and finding he couldn't.

Then it struck him. Snow. He was buried under the snow.

Bobo sat up, a deep growl escaping him as the snow fell away and the Ghost River Triangle came into view. He was back.

He sat there for a long moment, his mind racing with the rush of emotions that always accompanied a return from hell. There was the confusion, but that was waning now. The rage was taking its place, aimed at everything and nothing all at once. Betrayal, pain, suffering, and all because he'd tried to do the right thing once. The wound Wyatt left in him so many years before seemed to fester with each trip down south. It burned into him like hell's fires so that he could almost feel the wound itself that had done him in. The curse had some to do with it. Revenants were made to hunt down and be driven to destroy the Earp line. It was a fight to keep ahold of himself every time, to retain a choice. He'd won each time he'd come back and he just had to focus to regain control. It was a process, steps to bring himself around to the moments before the last Heir had killed him. Sitting in the snow he counted back, the memories replaying and it grounded him in the here and now.

He remembered Wynonna Earp waiting at the line. An act of mercy. There had been something so grimly stubborn in her expression that as he'd stood there, feeling the burn of the curse that wouldn't allow him to leave in one piece, he could have sworn he'd seen Wyatt in her eyes.

Then it hit him. The why, and his thoughts were overtaken by a different gunshot entirely and he leaned forward, bent over his knees and a name tumbled from his frozen lips.

 _Willa_.

He could hear her screams, her angry voice as she shouted at Wynonna. He hadn't been able to help her. He had been laid out on the snow, the blast breaking bones and tearing through him to leave him limp and useless to help her. He'd tried. He had wanted nothing more than their freedom in that moment.

Bobo groaned, feeling stiff as he shifted, the cold reach deep now that he'd just sat there for so long. He couldn't just stay there though. There were things to do. There were always things to do, especially upon a return. Wynonna must have been dead, a new Heir coming to age. He wondered just how long had passed this time.

Slowly, with more grunting and grumbling than usual, he picked himself up off the ground, dusting his long coat off as best he could. At least that had returned with him.

He moved slowly towards Purgatory, his steps heavy. The Revenants that had been with him at Shorty's would have likely migrated back to the trailer park. They'd felt safer there, even if it hadn't been true. There was no telling what chaos they'd brought to Purgatory in his absence and he needed to regain control as quickly as possible.

His feet didn't take him to the trailer park though, no matter how much he knew that they should. Instead they sent him in the opposite direction, taking back paths to avoid prying eyes. No one knew he was there, and this might be the only chance he got at some privacy.

The cemetery was quiet in the morning hours. There were no funerals being held and if families were visiting gravesite they weren't anywhere near the one he was aiming for.

Fresh snow was piled on top of the stone, but the front had been swept off as if someone had been there recently. Blue eyes surveyed the area one last time before Bobo squatted down on his heels, his forearms resting on his bent knees. The headstone had been there for years, but now she was really gone.

He wasn't sure he really knew how to mourn anymore. Was he supposed to talk to her? Say goodbye and beg her forgiveness? Wonder if she would beg his if their roles were reversed?

Bobo blinked hard, his vision blurring a little as he stared at her name. "It wasn't supposed to turn out this way," he whispered, his voice rough and pained. "I was gonna save you. I was gonna save us both."

Willa didn't answer him. He doubted that they'd even buried her there. The Old One had had ahold of her, feeding off the darkness and the anger and the bitterness that she'd kept with her so long. He couldn't even find it in himself to hate Wynonna for what she'd done. It had been a mercy, just as the shot that had dragged him back to hell. He'd asked her if she'd loved her sister, but it had been a cruelty born out of the bitter pain he'd been in. He knew the answer. He just had needed someone to hurt as badly as he had in that moment.

Somehow, though, speaking to the unresponsive stone with his lover's name on it made him feel…. something. It wasn't better, but it made him feel something. Something was better than the aching numbness that threatened to eat him alive now.

"I heard you," he confessed softly, his eyes slipping closed. "What you said to Wynonna about going it alone." He wasn't sure how he felt about it. It was one more betrayal. One more Earp that had put the knife deep in his back and twisted it. He had to wonder what made him so leavable to this family…. and why the hell he kept coming back to them. Always back to them in some way or another. He hated Wyatt, but he loved him. He blamed Wyatt, but he missed him. Love and hate, betrayal and loyalty. It was complicated and messy, and it hurt either way. He reckoned it'd be the same way with Willa. It was never simple with an Earp.

Blue eyes drifted open again and Bobo felt a rare tear escape as he reached a trembling hand to his lips and then to the stone. "For what it's worth," he breathed, "I'm sorry."

He waited a long moment, but only silence followed. He knew it would. People like him didn't get closure, just another gaping hole in whatever was left of his soul.

Bobo sniffed, finally releasing his grip on the gravestone and he stood slowly. Things needed to be done. He had let himself be distracted from his original goal long enough. She couldn't hear him anyway.

He turned, ready to start the trek across town to handle whatever idiots had gathered at the trailer park, when there was a rush through the air, words whispered just out of range for him to hear, but he felt them wrap around him, locking him in and tying him down.

When blue eyes opened again he was on a padded floor, flat on his back and staring at a padded ceiling, his arms tied down to his chest. Bobo shifted, trying to pull free, but found it fastened snugly against him. Everything was wrong. Everything, and he wasn't quite sure why.

* * *

Notes: As many of you know, I have many complicated feelings about Bobo and Willa and I'm still trying to shift through them all. Really, it boils down to that it breaks my heart. I feel like, at least in the end, Bobo loved Willa more than she loved him. I'm not sure if it was always that way or if the darkness she was fighting inside and out finally just consumed. I lean towards the latter since we saw that Juan Carlos approached Bobo (a demon) over Willa (a human) to try to talk them out of their plans for going through the gate. He thought he had a better chance at appealing to Robert's goodness than Willa's, and I think that says a lot about just how far Willa had gone at that point and that Bobo didn't see it.

I would love for Bobo to get some form of closure on some things before the show eventually (many MANY years from now, I hope) ends. I feel like right now, on top of the darkness that he has to deal with due to the curse, he has so many open emotional wounds. Can someone just give the man a hug?

As always, I love feedback, and this one kind of made me want to cry writing it. I'd love to know your thoughts if you have any.


	9. His Angel

**His Angel**

 _A little girl is adopted by Ward and Michelle Earp and given the name Waverly._

* * *

It was something when he thought about it, the way that technology had advanced from the moment he'd woken up in that church in 1929 to find his old friend's death had finally kickstarted the curse that Clootie had cast on him and now. Transportation, communication, day-to-day gadgets that they wouldn't have dreamed about in his day. He handled it in stride, like the others. They didn't have much choice in it if they wanted to retain any grounding in the here and now that they found themsleves in. It didn't make it easy for some. There were still Revenants that refused to step foot into a moving vehicle and Bobo himself wasn't overly fond of the new cell phone fad that was beginning to crop up, but it was what it was, and if they were smart, they'd use it in any way that they could to get a little closer to the end to the curse that trapped them in Purgatory.

Then, sometimes, there were personal benefits as well.

Bobo Del Rey had left the name Robert Svane many years ago. It had been dangerous to hold onto and while there weren't many Revenants that knew his face, his name was one that could easily be passed around. Still, a very small part of him - one that he wouldn't admit to anybody - wanted to hold onto something. He didn't have anything left of that life, but as technology progressed he had found a strange and unique opportunity to find information outside of the Ghost River Triangle, and within the last few years he'd found something of personal interest: a family line that had settled in New Mexico with the name of Svane, and that line could be traced back to a Richard Svane, born 1837.

He could barely remember his brother's face now with the years and hell between them. So much had happened, and if he were honest, he hadn't given Richard - or any of his other siblings, for that matter - a second thought in decades now, but as he stared at his brother's lineage he could see him in their eyes. Many of them were the same blue as his own and a similar shape. They were lanky and thin, each one of them with an accomplishment of some note under their belt. Well, Richard always had been the one their parents had counted on.

For several years it was a passing hobby. He had connections in many places outside of the Triangle, and the ones he had in the little town that his brother's family had settled in kept an eye out for anything interesting. There wasn't a lot of news until the call came in. There'd been an accident. Richard's some-odd great-grandson and his wife had been killed, leaving a newborn baby girl alone with no family claiming her.

Bobo didn't consider himself a rash or sentimental man, but in that moment he had been both. Possibly stupid too. Scratch that. Definitely stupid. He had given the order and the girl was on her way to Purgatory before he'd truly thought it through. What the hell was he supposed to do with her when she got there? Keep her in the trailer park? Raise her amongst Revenants? Even if that wouldn't open him up to all kinds of problems, that was no place for a kid. He knew those demons, and many of them were just that before their trips to hell and back. No, he couldn't take her there.

But she didn't have anyone else, and he knew that this curse he was caught up in had the tendency to reach out and take hold of people connected to those under it at the worst of times. There was a reason that the only Earps from Wyatt's direct line always seemed to be in Purgatory.

The problem was he had no one to trust in his usual circle. It was one thing for someone outside of Purgatory to know he was orchestrating this, but someone inside? No, they would have knowledge - or at the very least suspicions - that he had no interest in anyone under him having. His place of leadership with the Revenants was based on respect and fear. Risking that would put him back to the start after sixty-five years of tireless work on it.

So it had to be someone outside of his usual circle that he could still trust.

Bobo had met Michelle Earp only once, but he knew her by reputation. She was a good person, as people went. She was kind and patient. She had to be to have married Ward Earp. She was odd, quiet, and there were rumours. Whispers. She knew things long before they happened. He hadn't seen any proof of that until he approached and she seemed to know the question before it was spoken. She didn't ask for details, didn't make any demands of him. A little girl needed a home and she had one in the Earp household.

Now, as Bobo lingered at the edge of the county line, thinking back on the marathon of events that he'd tumbled into, he was really starting to question his own sanity. He'd seen multiple trips to hell drive other Revenants mad. Maybe this was how his own madness was finally showing. He'd taken that final step from eccentric to batshit crazy.

He could see the vehicle approaching across the bridge and he shifted, waiting as it drew closer. It pulled around, the engine shutting off and he saw a face on the other side of the windshield he hadn't seen in person in some time now. She had passed through Purgatory years before in search of a relic she hadn't found, but what she had found was a collection of cursed men and women stuck inside the Ghost River Triangle. She had stayed for months, researching and poking at anyone willing to talk to her about it, even though most weren't. She'd caught his attention and then, in turn, she had found him fascinating. He found her useful. One could really never have too many outside connections. He couldn't remember how many years ago that had been now, but he could see the grey starting to dust her dark hair these days.

"Bobo Del Rey," Becky greeted as she stepped out of the van. "Damn if you haven't changed a bit in twenty years."

He smirked a little. She was a collector of myths and stories and she'd never stopped asking him for the details of Wyatt Earp's Curse, and he suspected she'd always known more about it than he had shared. It fascinated her. It wouldn't if she had been caught in it.

"She handled the trip pretty well for as little as she is," Becky said as she moved to the back door, revealing a tiny little girl tucked into a car seat in the back. "You want to meet your niece?"

"Pretty far removed to be that," Bobo said roughly, and watched as Becky picked the baby up out of the buggy and walked towards him. He didn't expect her to shuffle the child into his arms and his eyes widened at the bundle as she settled in there, Becky making sure he had an arm under her tiny head before fully releasing her. It had been more than a century since he'd held a child, and he wasn't sure he'd ever held one this small, but she looked up at him curiously, completely and utterly unafraid of the demon cradling her.

"But you're kin," Becky answered with a shrug. "That means something to you, doesn't it? I mean, it's not like we don't have a foster system in Maldito. She wouldn't have been on the streets."

He grunted, his gaze fixed on the little girl. Finally he looked up. "Thank you."

"Honestly, there are worse things you could have called the favour in for. You two going to be okay? It's a long drive back and I should…"

"She'll be alright. I've made arrangements."

"'Course you have," she chuckled and pulled bags full of…. stuff from the van. Bobo wasn't sure he knew what all it would be for, but with two girls already he wagered the Earps would. He'd made the right call. He had to believe that. There was no turning back now.

"You take care of him," Becky told the little girl with a wink and she was back in the van and driving away, leaving Bobo holding onto an innocent little girl that had somehow trusted him enough to doze back off in his arms.

* * *

He didn't have long with the little baby that could have easily been the last of his line. Richard's descendants in Maldito had been the only ones he had found. That didn't mean they were the only ones around, but no one else had claimed the little girl. At least here he could keep an eye on her.

"That's a sight you don't see everyday."

Bobo turned, careful not to move too quickly and jolt the little girl in his arms. He had tried to put her back in the little buggy Becky had brought, but somehow he couldn't let go. It was strange, but in the few moments he had left with her he didn't really care.

Ward Earp stood there, his typical cross expression set deeply into his features. It was mixed with a little bit of surprise this time, though, like he hadn't quite believed that he'd find Bobo Del Rey with an infant. It wasn't like there was any precedent for it. "She yours?" he asked after a long moment.

Bobo lifted one off-colour eyebrow. "I've heard that ain't even possible," he answered.

"Until it is," the Heir huffed and shook his head. "Keep your secrets. Michelle already talked me into it." He glanced back, the woman in question lingering a few yards away, and when he looked back he lowered his voice. "You are never to approach my wife or any of my family without me there again, you hear me, Del Rey?"

"Seemed better to ask the one that would actually do the watchin'," Bobo said with his head tilted just a little and he eased himself to his feet, the baby stirring in his arms and she yawned.

"You don't have to tell me where she comes from, but…. why us?"

The question pulled the Revenant's attention. It was a fair question. "Ironic as it is, your homestead may be the safest place in the Triangle."

Ward seemed to accept that and Michelle moved forward to get a better look. The little girl was waking up, those big eyes watching. Bobo found himself wondering if they'd always be that same shade, or if they'd settle out into a darker hue. He seemed to remember the photograph of the girl's mother having darker eyes.

"She likes you," Michelle said as she approached.

"She won't remember me," he answered gruffly.

Michelle reached out, her finger against the baby's cheek. "She's beautiful. You're doing the right thing." She looked up, meeting Bobo's gaze directly. "A good thing. You've probably saved her life, you know."

He snorted. That was a bit much. Ward's wife seemed to be under some misconception of exactly what he was and what something like him was still capable of. _Good_ was a definite stretch. It really was best that he was letting her go.

"Storm's coming. We should get her home," Ward said shortly, shooting Bobo a skeptical look.

"I swear, if I find your boys got ahold of another couple of tourists and that's where she's from…"

Bobo chuckled at that and Michelle reached out, taking the little one from him. He pushed down strange sensation of loss as he passed her over. He couldn't keep her. There was no way. He cleared his throat. "What'll you name her?"

"Waverly. Wynonna picked it out when we told her and Willa they'd have a baby sister."

The name hit Bobo like a physical blow and he was glad he no longer had ahold of her. He might have dropped her in surprise. Waverly. His angel. He'd almost written the encounter off as a dream.

Michelle Earp was watching him with a strange, knowing look. "We'll take good care of her, Robert," she promised. "The girls will love her. We'll love her."

Bobo nodded numbly and risked reaching out, his rough finger against her smooth little cheek. "Goodbye, Waverly," he whispered and she watched him sleepily.

He hadn't expected it to hurt to let her go. He hadn't expected to feel much at all about a child that he didn't even know. But he did know her, in a way. He'd been waiting for her since the day he'd died. Waverly. His angel. The demon and his angel kin. What an odd world this was.

* * *

Notes: I've had a couple of ideas on how Waverly and Bobo are connected after he called her 'kin' in the season2 finale, but this is my favourite so far. I really like the idea of her being a descendant (even if not directly) of Robert's while Wynonna is Wyatt's descendant.

And hey! This one was finished just in time for Waverly's birthday. It seemed fitting to go up today

I hope you enjoyed! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. :D


	10. Free

**Free**

 _Bobo's boys uncover something dangerous during the dig for Constance and the Stone Witch finds a new way to force Bobo to continue looking for her sons._

* * *

His patience was wearing thin. After over a decade of digging with nothing to show for it, it damn well better be. Constance's promises were ringing hollow more than ever as Bobo made his way out to the dig in the middle of the night. It was late, he was tired, and he was _done_. Done with her pretty words and hints at escape. The lead was a lie. That much he knew. That much he was sure of. There were other ways, and they were finally within sight. Continuing to follow the promises of a witch he should have put a bullet in a century ago was never going to end well. He never should have struck the deal with her.

Bobo pulled the bike around on the dark road, the dirt loose beneath the tires as he killed the engine on it and dismounted, eyes scanning the area. It was strange to remember that there was a day many years before when he couldn't see five feet in front of him without his spectacles perched on his nose. His eyes were sharp now, enhanced like the rest of his senses, but the price for it was steeper than he would have ever agreed to if he had been given the choice.

"Boss, over here!" one of the Revenants called and Bobo looked over. They'd found something during the dig. They hadn't said what, but they didn't have to. Not with where they were.

"Anybody touch it?"

"No, boss. We left it, just like you said. Boys ain't even completely sure what it is. Didn't wanna bother you with it, but you said-"

"You did good, Peeper." Bobo followed with the tall Revenant to the dig site. It was getting colder and the ground would start to freeze soon. It would be a good enough excuse to quit the dig without drawing attention to it. By the time Constance caught on that it wouldn't begin again, he and Willa would be over the town line and, if it all worked like he thought, the whole damn curse could be done at last.

They approached the band of Revenants standing around their trash can fires to stay warm and Peeper lead him over to the hole in the ground, yelling at someone to redirect the floodlights and for the slacking workers to get back to it.

Bobo waited, his expression even as they finished scraping the dirt away. He could see the wood beneath. He could feel the call. It sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the autumn weather. He could see the reaction from the others as they looked for the source. They didn't know who was in that box. Most of them had no idea how the curse began.

"Well that is quite a find," a voice chirped, drawing everyone's attention around to the blonde woman approaching. Constance Clootie was dressed to the nines as she always was, picking her way around the rubble in her six inch heels. "Robert, hard at work I see."

Bobo growled lowly at the sight of her. "Come to pay your respects?" he snapped.

"Just to check in." Her gaze shifted over to the casket and they flashed an eerie blue, making the Revenants around it nervous.

"Take a walk, boys," he instructed.

"Oh, privacy," Constance almost giggled and Bobo rolled his eyes. If she thought he was in this for anything other than his freedom she was delusional.

The giddiness wore off as quickly as it had come and she frowned. "We can't leave him exposed like this. He can't open it from inside with the seals in place, but if someone were to find him even those may not hold him in there."

Bobo's gaze swept the area. "We should have burned him the day he died."

"It would only burn his cage away," she answered flippantly. "You should move him."

He grunted and shot a glare to the rotting corpse of the demon that had damned him. As much as he hated it, she was right. He couldn't end Clootie. Not permanently. An Heir might, but he still hadn't met one that he would trust to handle the task. No. The best option was to break the curse when Willa turned twenty-seven. There might be a day Clootie rose, but they'd be long gone, and he wouldn't be stupid enough to come running back to help end him again if it happened.

"How close are we, Robert? My boys-"

"Will have to wait. Ground's gonna freeze soon."

"You're telling me that you're stopping?" she hissed, indignation sharpening her voice.

"Till spring. Patience, Constance."

There was no warning as her magic lashed out at him and he felt it rip through his body like thousands of needles. He gasped, not able to draw enough breath in to cry out fully, and he fought against it until it finally drove him to his knees at her feet in the dirt. He bent over, gasping and sputtering against it, as she loomed over him. "There's no time for a delay, Robert. You've delayed long _enough_."

"I don't control the damn weather," he snarled back and felt her take hold of his hair and pull hard so that his head was jerked back at an awkward angle, staring straight up at her.

She was silent for a moment, watching him and studying him. He forced himself to meet her gaze defiantly. She might have him on his knees, but she didn't own him. He refused to let her.

Constance tightened her grip on his hair and pulled back just a little more, leaning down directly in his ear so that he could feel her breath there as she spoke. "How's Willa?"

Bobo froze and he could almost feel her smile, still far too close for his liking. He cringed as she pressed a kiss to his ear, and stood. Without warning she used her magic to put him face-first into the dirt. "Clean this mess up and find my boys, Robert, or I'll take away the only thing of value you have left: your hope."

He grunted as she gave him a sharp nudge to the ribs before leaving him to find a new hiding place for her demon husband.

* * *

The sun was coming up and he still hadn't gotten any sleep. He was covered in dirt, sore from digging as well as the beating he'd received. It would subside in a few hours, but the anger wouldn't. Neither would the fear. Not until he knew she was safe.

He didn't go back to his trailer, but watched his back to make sure he wasn't being followed before making a beeline for the Reservoir. He made it up the metal rungs in record time, barely knocking before opening the door, not completely sure what he'd find. Leaving Clootie exposed simply hadn't been an option, but the idea that Constance might know where the hidden Earp sister was terrified him. "Willa?"

The blonde woman stirred on her bed, her eyes fluttering open. "Robert? What's wrong?"

He loosed a breath, relief flooding through him. "You're alright," he breathed.

She looked a little worried at that as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, padding over to where he was still standing at the door. Willa reached up, her hand resting on the side of his face. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Bobo leaned into her touch, craving the physical certainty that she was there and she was safe. Yes, she was his way out, but she'd become more.

"Robert?" She touched his chest, trying to draw his attention, and he winced a little, pulling a frown from her. "What happened?"

His eyes opened and reached down, pulling her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her palm. "Constance Clootie knows," he finally managed. "I don't know how, but she knows."

Willa's gaze turned darker, calculating. "Where I am or just that I'm alive?"

"Not sure," he admitted softly and she tipped up on her toes, pulling him to meet her there. Bobo sank down into this kiss and he felt her hands move to tug his coat off his shoulders.

"Then," she managed, not quite breaking the kiss off, "there's no rush." She pulled back, meeting his gaze and there was something in her eyes that sent a chill up his spine. "She wants to be on your good side. She wants you to find those bones for her, and we have less than a year. Do what she wants, don't give her a reason to come for us, and then we're done. We're gone and she burns with the rest of them."

"Less than a year," he murmured.

"Less than a year," she assured him, kissing him again. "Now come to bed. I wasn't ready to wake up yet."

He let her pull him, leaving his coat in a heap on floor and he toed his boots off, following her into the bed. He was still covered in dust and dirt, but she didn't seem to care as she curled up, her head on his chest and an arm draped over his middle. The pain was starting to subside already, and he listened to her breathing even out to help calm himself, finally bringing a hand up to stroke her dark blonde hair. She sighed against him, already inching back towards the sleep he had interrupted. She thought she knew about the dangers they faced, but she didn't. She couldn't. Not from her perch here in the treehouse. It was up to him to make sure that no one hurt her, even if that meant bending to the Stone Witch a little while longer.

Less than a year. After all the years he'd suffered he could handle whatever Constance had to dish out. Then they'd be free.

* * *

Notes: I'm a timeline nerd and it's one of the things that shows seem to mix up a lot with continuity. In 1.02 Bobo talks about the fact that they've been digging for 15 years looking for the Stone Witch's sons' bones, but in 1.13 he tells Waverly that he rounded up people to help with the dig when Constance stole Willa away days before her 27th birthday. That would have been just a little over a year before Wynonna came to town, as Wynonna and Willa are less than 2 years apart in age. So this is the best way for my brain to fill in that gap.


	11. To Hell and Back For Him

**To Hell and Back For Him**

 _Robert Svane rides to Purgatory after trying to convince Doc Holliday to help their friend take down the demon sheriff Clootie.  
_

* * *

He had ridden hard the whole way, the urgency of the situation weighing on him. Wyatt had asked him to bring Doc Holliday and he'd failed him. It wasn't like he could have forced Holliday to come. Robert had stayed in town for nearly three days trying to get a word in to him and wasting precious time doing so. The man was stubborn and drunk, never a good combination even for just a civil conversation, but for a fight? No. There had been no reason to waste another day trying to pry a more positive answer from the man. He'd already lost enough time and the situation in Purgatory was desperate from what his friend had said.

He found Wyatt at a saloon waiting for the padre that had initially contacted him about the issue with the sheriff. Robert moved to join him at the table and waved off the offer of a drink as he passed by the bar. Wyatt was bent over some notes of some sort, but looked up as he approached and his expression lightened just a little. "Robert, glad you made it," he greeted, reaching a hand out to him.

"Sorry it took so long," the other man answered and shook his hand before sitting with him. "Spoken to the padre yet?"

"He's on his way. I take it you couldn't find Doc?"

"Oh, I found him." Robert cleared his throat, finding Wyatt's gaze steadily on him, trying to gauge the reaction.

Finally Wyatt sighed. "He was too ill to come then."

"Or too drunk."

The lawman laughed, the sound surprising Robert a little. "That never stopped him before." His mirth faded as quickly as it'd come as he glanced towards the door where the priest was entering. He nodded to the bartender and stopped there just a moment before continuing over to the table. Wyatt tipped his hat. "Padre."

"Deputy Marshal."

"Robert just brought word from Doc that he won't be making it. I left him pretty sick, but it was worth a shot."

"You a gunslinger too, Robert?" the padre asked and Robert cracked a very small smile in response.

"Not like Wyatt, but I do know where the trigger is."

That pulled a chuckle from the old priest and he thanked the woman who delivered his drink over.

"Now, I understand that Sheriff Clootie has been a terror on this town," Wyatt prompted. "In your letter you called him-"

"A demon," the padre cut him off, his voice flat and serious. "And I meant it."

"Ain't no such thing as demons, Padre."

"There are, Marshal. Demons and angels are as real as you and me. Clootie's three wives are nearly as dangerous as he is, his favourite being the witch of the three, but the other two…." He shuddered and his gaze shifted from Wyatt over to Robert who was watching him carefully, keeping his own thoughts carefully concealed behind an even expression. He'd read the letters that had been written and he knew Wyatt's reservations. He shared many of them. Rarely did a person cry demon and it be true, but that didn't mean that they didn't exist. He was certain angels did.

Wyatt didn't look convinced. He shook his head and stood. "Well, demon or man, he's not above the law. It's time we met and settled this."

"No time like the present," the padre said as he took a long drink of his whisky.

It was like he knew what was about to happen, and as the doors to the saloon kicked open and a chill swept through the establishment Robert found himself wondering if he did. An unnatural sort of hush fell over the place and all eyes turned to the man that entered. He was tall and imposing, his sheriff's badge shined and prominent for all to see. His boots hit the wooden floor of the saloon hard, the sound echoing over the silence he brought with him. He was alone, but there didn't seem to be a person beyond their own table that didn't tremble at the sight of him.

"Padre," Sheriff Clootie called out, "I see you invited friends."

"Evenin'," Wyatt greeted, straightening at his place by the table. Robert and the padre remained in their seats, Robert watching the situation carefully. He might not be a gunslinger like Wyatt or Doc, but he would do whatever he needed to to help his friend. "I'm Deputy Marshal Wyatt Earp, US Marshals. There've been some-"

"Get." It was a single word, but as soon as it left the sheriff's lips every last person in the saloon - barkeeper included - ran over each other trying to leave. Robert watched them scurry out like rabbits running from a dog and he thought he saw the sheriff's eyes flash red momentarily, a strange sort of smile tilting his lips. "Now what were you saying, Marshal?"

It was an intimidation tactic, and one that didn't work on Wyatt. Doc Holliday had been right about one thing at the very least: Wyatt never _appeared_ upset. That didn't mean that Robert didn't see the signs that the lawman knew that this wouldn't be easy. It was in the way his eyes narrowed as Clootie spoke and how his left hand brushed back his coat casually as if he were readying himself for the worst situation and giving himself easy access to Peacemaker there. Robert found himself joining Wyatt on his feet, ready for whatever would come next.

Or he thought he was.

Clootie's laugh echoed through the empty saloon, causing Wyatt to frown. "You're facing some serious charges, Sheriff. Most wouldn't find that funny."

"This is plenty funny," Clootie chuckled, still smirking. "I heard you were coming, Deputy Marshal, but I had expected a bit more of a fight. Instead of your usual crowd you show up with this pup at your feet, desperate for a little of the great Wyatt Earp's attention. You've never even killed a man, have you? What good do you think you're going to do against me?"

Robert saw it again, that flash of red, and this time the sheriff flicked his wrist. A gust of wind hit them so hard that it took them up and off their feet as if someone had grabbed them by the front of their lapels and sent them stumbling. Robert hit hard, crashing into and over a chair and he grimaced at the landing.

Wyatt was back on his feet quicker, gun drawn and shots fired, only clipping the man whose eyes were glowing dangerously as he moved at an unnatural speed. The sight was enough to cause Robert to freeze for just half a beat before he pulled his own weapon, but he didn't get a chance to fire before it was pulled from his hand and Clootie turned a terrible snarl in him.

There was no questioning it now. The evil was evident, painted across those dark red eyes and the unearthly powers that flowed from him. He extended his hand, fingers outstretched, and Robert was being dragged up. His feet dangled, toes barely touching the wood floor as an invisible hand wrapped around his throat, choking off his airway and he found there was no way to fight it. Nothing was there, yet it was.

" _Robert_!" Wyatt called out and he was being dragged forward until he was face to face with the demon.

"So the pet means something," Clootie murmured. "I do have to wonder what the infamous Wyatt Earp sees in you."

The grip had loosened enough that he could take shallow breaths and fighting was useless, so he leveled his best glare. "I've been told I have a quick wit," he managed and the demon chuckled.

"A wit won't shield you," he warned. "But a friend? A friend makes quite the shield. Gun down, Deputy Marshal. Humans really are such fragile creatures. I'd hate to break him." There was a sudden jolt of pain and Robert tried to swallow the cry that escaped him, his back arching at it tore through him. He remained suspended, Clootie spinning him around so that Wyatt could see the pain played out across his features.

He forced his blue eyes open, meeting Wyatt's gaze. There was disappointment there, an understanding that things were not turning out as expect and…. that they would have if it had been Doc Holliday at his side instead of Robert Svane. Robert was a fine, loyal friend, but he wasn't useful like this. He wasn't sure what had ever made him think that he could be. He had only gotten in the way.

"Alright," Wyatt said at last, lowering his weapon a little.

Blue eyes closed briefly as he heard Clootie make a triumphant sound behind him. This was bigger than him. Bigger than that moment. If they didn't do something here and now, more innocent people would die. He would _not_ be the reason they were hurt. "Wyatt, take the shot."

"Robert…"

Clootie was laughing now, entertained by it. "It sounds brave when you know he won't."

Blue eyes snapped open again, catching Wyatt's gaze and holding it. Willing his friend to hear him, to do it. "Take it."

It all seemed to happen at once. The small nod, Wyatt raising his gun, and the shot going off. The bullet tore through Robert, into his left shoulder through his chest and out the back, and suddenly he was tumbling to the floor, the demon releasing him.

He laid there a long moment before the pain hit, and it hit hard. Robert gasped as he curled around himself as he tried to gain his bearings and think through the it. He felt hands on him and he started to fight until he heard Wyatt's calming tones. "Easy, friend. I've got you."

He looked up, finding Wyatt on the floor with him, easing him up just a little and he found the change in position helped lessen the pain just a little, making it easier to breathe. "Did you-?"

"We got him. It struck him in the heart. He's not long for this world."

Robert blinked hard, hearing Clootie cursing and hissing out some sort of threat he couldn't make out. He focused in on his friend. "Good."

"You're going to be just fine, Robert. Padre is fetching the physician and you'll be whole in no time."

His vision was blurring, but he could still see the hints of worry played out across his friend's face. "Wyatt?" The other man didn't answer, distracted by something, and Robert winced as a fresh wave of pain stole his breath from him. "I'm sorry. I meant to help you and I… got in the way."

That pulled him around just a little, at least enough to offer the injured man a thin smile. "Nonsense. What other friend do I have brave enough to do what you did? Thank you, Robert. I…. I'm going to make this right. Somehow, I'm going to make this right."

Robert loosed a long breath in the form of a sigh, desperately trying to focus on the words, but he was losing the fight with consciousness. Wyatt was there, though, and he wasn't angry with him. Somehow, he almost seemed proud of him, and that made it worth the pain.

* * *

Robert woke to voices. At first they sounded like they were down a long tunnel, distant and garbled, but as he broke the final layer of consciousness he finally made the padre that he and Wyatt had come to see. He shifted, grimacing hard at the painful reminder that he'd taken a bullet to the chest…. He wasn't sure how long ago.

"I wouldn't move too much," the padre said and Robert could smell the alcohol on his breath. Juan Carlos. He wasn't sure that he'd ever given him his name directly, but it had been in the letters that Wyatt had received. Father Juan Carlos.

"Wyatt," Robert choked the name out, his throat dry and painful.

Juan Carlos motioned for him to stay put for a moment before grabbing a glass with what looked like water in it from the bedside table. "Take it easy, Robert. You've been sleeping for a couple of days. Wyatt couldn't wait."

"What?"

"Told me to tell you that he'd gone looking for an answer he thought John Henry had. The doctor assured him that with rest and treatment you have a good chance of pulling through."

"Do I?"

"I imagine so. You seem like the stubborn sort."

"Padre, we need to go. They will find a way to bring him back if we don't seal him in the ground. We've waited too long."

Robert squinted at the new voice from the door, realizing for the first time that his glasses weren't perched on his nose, and the padre reached for those as well, fitting them there. A woman at the door came into focus. Blonde and beautiful, but there was something about her that didn't set well with him. Nothing about Purgatory set well with him anymore. The sooner he could get out of here, the better.

"You said we need three, and the town's torn up enough without finding someone to help with that."

"He can."

"The doctor said he needs rest."

"I'm right here," Robert snapped. "Don't talk around me like I'm not. What can I do?"

The woman stepped forward, her gaze studying him carefully. "You were with Wyatt Earp? Helped him to kill my husband?"

One of Clootie's wives. The witch, Robert thought. He set his jaw. "I did my part."

"Then do the next. Help us keep him in the ground."

Blue eyes shifted to look at the priest, the unasked question hanging in the air and Juan Carlos nodded. "We can't hold the other two without her help."

"It's in my best interest to make sure all three never come back here. Wyatt's bullet never should have been able to kill him, but I slipped him something that made him vulnerable. If he comes back, I'm a dead woman."

Robert nodded solemnly, shifting again until he was able to sit. It hurt like hell, but he thought that if he could get on his feet he'd be alright. "What is it you need me to do?"

"I need you to be bait," Constance Clootie said, her voice far sweeter than her words. "They'll smell the blood on you and they'll come. We'll be ready for them. Do this, help us secure them and my demon husband, and they won't be able to go after your dear friend Wyatt. He might even escape with his life."

"Robert," Juan Carlos warned, but he shook his head.

He'd told Doc Holliday that he'd be willing to ride to hell and back for Wyatt, and he would. He'd be willing to die for the man if need be, and right now, Wyatt needed him to make sure that he remained outside of the demon's grasp. "I'll rest when it's done."

* * *

Notes: I have such mixed feelings about Wyatt. I want to hope that there was more to him than fleeing the curse and then trying to track down Doc while Robert lay dying. Maybe he went looking for Doc because he'd known about the demon and Wyatt hoped he had an answer for him? One can hope. I also hope we get more information (and flashbacks!) in the third season. I'd love to see Wyatt and Robert flashbacks and get a better feel for that friendship.

Hope you guys enjoyed this one. It's a bit longer than usual.


	12. Mushy Cupcakes and Old Letters

**Mushy Cupcakes and Old Letters**

 _No one seems to remember little Waverly Earps' birthday each year, so when she realizes that she's never celebrated Bobo's she decides to throw him a birthday party all by herself. Requested by an anon on Tumblr._

* * *

She had told him to meet her in a different place that day, and who was he to deny his little angel something he could give? Her instructions had been left in the form of a map she had drawn herself that had been stuck between two crossed boards of the fence that marked the beginning of Earp land. It was done up in crayons and counted pencils, but Bobo could make it out. Mostly. It wasn't like he didn't know every inch of Purgatory and the surrounding lands like the back of his hand at this point.

He found little Waverly Earp by a shallow stream, crouched by some rocks and setting something up. Her back was to him and she hadn't turned yet, so he made sure to put a little effort into ensuring his steps made enough noise to draw her attention.

The little girl turned as if on cue and her expression lit. "Bobo! You're early!"

"Should I come back?" he asked, catching a glimpse of what she was putting into place. It looked like little tea cups and saucers with… cakes? Maybe. There was definitely more icing than small cakes.

"It's okay," she told him and picked her way around a few rocks to grab him by one hand and pull him over. "Surprise! Happy birthday!"

Bobo stopped, tilting his head a little before he squatting down on his heels so that he was closer to her height. "It's not my birthday," he said after a long moment.

"But I don't know when it is," she told him, "and you haven't told me. What if I missed it? You'd think no one loved you."

She was watching him with those big eyes of hers and Bobo was struck, not for the first time, just how sweet and pure this little girl was. He found himself smiling very slightly, that odd sense of comfort that always crept up on him when he spent time with his little angel taking hold. "So you threw me a birthday party?"

"Yeah. I didn't know who your friends are, so it's just us. Is that okay?"

"That's perfect, Angel," he promised her and she beamed, pulling him back to his feet and the rest of the way to the little set up. She told him where to sit and he had a plate shoved in his hand almost immediately. "It's a little gooey," she warned him, her nose turned up.

"Are these left over from your birthday party?" he asked. It was just a couple days passed her sixth birthday. Maybe Ward had tried to bake, or one of the older girls.

"No, I made them myself in my Easy Bake Oven," she told him proudly, even though he had no idea what that meant. "Are they good?"

He took a bite and she hadn't been exaggerating. Definitely gooey.

Waverly giggled at the face he made and he was glad to see that it hadn't deterred her. She chattered away about the last few days, about going to school, and how a boy had been mean to her friend Chrissy on the playground but she had shown him. He listened to her go on and on, picking at the parts of the cupcake that had actually been baked through and finally dipping his pinky into the mush to try that as well out of curiosity.

"You still haven't told me about your birthday," he reminded her as she took a big scoop of the icing and shoved it in her mouth.

"Didn't have one."

His lips twitched downward. Ward had promised her a birthday party that would make up for missing last year's. Bobo didn't know a great deal about kids, but he learned quickly that they remembered promises made.

"Well," he drawled, "I brought you somethin' for it."

"A present?" the little girl asked, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

"Can't tell anyone."

"Nope! Promise! No one!"

He cracked a smile at the excitable look that had replaced the sad one and pulled en envelope from his inside pocket and handed it to her. "You said that you like history, right? That you're collecting things?" She had gone on and on a few weeks before about the history she was learning in school and how her family had made it into the history books. She had told him she was going to learn everything there was to know about the Earps, Purgatory, and everything connected to it. Now, though, as he handed the six-year-old her birthday present, Bobo had to wonder if he shouldn't have gotten her something else. Something more age-appropriate, even if he wasn't entirely sure what that would have been.

Waverly's eyes grew as she pulled a couple of old photos and an old letter out. "Wow! Are they really old?"

"Over a century. One hundred years," he specified. Well, she seemed excited at least.

"I know what a century is," Waverly told him proudly. "Are they famous people?"

"Not really. A few outlaws, mostly. Townsfolk."

"Where'd you get them?"

"I know a guy." And Levi knew better than to ask questions about what he wanted the photos for.

"What's the letter?"

That had been a little harder to part with, but if he were honest, he never should have kept it. It was a dangerous link. Even if Ward found her with it, it'd be safer than if one of the Revenants happened to stumble across it. "It's a letter written by Wyatt Earp. You said you wanted to know everything about him. Figured that'd be as good of a place to start as any."

"Wow!" Waverly breathed, suddenly holding the letter a little more carefully. " _The_ Wyatt Earp?"

"The very same."

"How'dya get it?"

He smirked just a little. "I know a guy."

"You know a lot of guys."

"I do."

She stuck her nose close to the scrawling handwriting that Bobo had once known well. "Who's Robert?" she asked him, reading the name the letter was addressed to.

"A friend, I 'spose."

He watched as she nodded, her eyes scanning the old paper, and Bobo hoped that the small smear of very old blood wouldn't be recognizable to a six-year-old. "Oh! He's talking about Doc Holliday! I know who he is."

"Everybody knows who he is," Bobo grumbled and shook his head, hoping to distract her from what sounded like it was about to be a long info dump on everything she'd learned about one of the men he hated most in the world. Bobo didn't think he could take that that afternoon. "You like it?"

She set her new little treasures down carefully on a rock and stood so that she could wrap her arms around his neck, burying her nose in the fur collar of his coat. "I love it! Thank you thank you thank you!"

That drew a smile from him. "You'll keep 'em safe, right? Don't let your sisters tear it up."

"I promise I'll keep it safe." She stuck her little hand out and he chuckled as he shook it, the promise sealed between them before she sat back down to continue her exploration of the letter. They sat there together in silence, Bobo enjoying a few moments when he wasn't having to deal with the idiots he had to keep in line and Waverly going over her new presents. "These are a lot better than my mushy cupcakes," she told him after a few minutes.

"Nothing's better than your mushy cupcakes," he assured her.

"Bobo?"

"Yeah, Angel?" He looked down, finding her staring straight up at him from where she was leaned into his side.

"How old are you anyway? I didn't know how many candles to get, but I can know for next year."

"Sometimes you just stop counting," he murmured and she thought he was teasing her and giggled. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a hug. He wasn't sure how many more birthdays he'd get with her, but until Ward Earp found him out or Waverly started asking too many questions, he'd be there. Even when he couldn't be right there with her, he would always protect her. That was a promise he swore he'd stand by. His angel.

* * *

Notes: I now have a new head canon that Bobo helped Waverly start her collection of Purgatory history and I love this new head canon.


	13. Bit by Bit

**Bit By Bit**

 _Sometimes choosing to trust can shift a relationship in unforeseen ways._

* * *

It had been a learning curve for a thirteen year old girl to go from all that the 21st century had to offer to a treehouse in the middle of nowhere. It didn't have running water and it didn't have electricity. She hadn't known it was possible to live like that, but he'd taught her how.

In theory Willa had known that all Revenants were from a time long before what she was used to, but it was something else entirely seeing their leader explain how to work a kerosene lamp or set up a way for her to cook and stay warm with an old school stove that might as well have been from his time. He made sure she had everything she needed: clothing, food, books and drawing paper to keep her occupied. Even company when he had the time and she let him.

Bobo Del Rey was not what she had expected. She had seen him speaking with her daddy a few times and he had always been imposing. Dangerous. A demon. Here, though, he was reserved. A little snarky when she pushed him too far - usually when she threw things at him in a fit of frustration in the earlier days - and strangely respectful. The Revenants that had pulled her from her home had been anything but that, and they had made it _very_ clear what they wanted to do to her. Bobo had been crass enough around them that the change as soon as he stowed her away had only added to the confusion of a teenage girl taken from everything she knew.

Slowly, though, bit by bit, she had come to accept that he wasn't a threat to her. Neither of them had made it easy. He didn't like to share and she didn't trust. It took longer than it should have to ask why he had tucked her away when she had heard him promise the others he'd kill her, and even longer to trust in the answer. Explanations came slowly, though, and those had turned into conversations. He had brought her paper and pencils when he had found out she liked to draw and she had taught herself to fold pieces into little origami animals. There was always a new book before one was finished and she found that he was surprisingly well read.

Everything was a contradiction, both of what she thought she knew about every Revenant in the Ghost River Triangle and what she was once certain was true about Bobo Del Rey, and eventually, with each new glimpse to who he was, she had come to care about him.

She couldn't pinpoint exactly when that had happened. Maybe somewhere during one of their long conversations about a book she was reading or the time that she'd gotten so sick in the cold winter months that she had woken to find herself buried under his coat and Bobo dozing in the chair next to her bed, keeping watch over her. Or maybe it was when he'd finally chosen to trust her with his most dangerous secret.

The evening had started with a strange whim to begin with. Willa wasn't a cook and she knew that, so what had possessed her to try her hand at putting together a few basics she had around the treehouse to make something akin to dinner was still beyond her. She hadn't been aware that she could burn rice until that day.

Willa had gotten things mostly under control by the time the knock came at the door and Bobo entered - thankfully - with what looked like a bag from Shorty's in his hands. "Please tell me you brought alcohol with that," she grumbled, still waving a bit of the smoke out the crack in her window. It was freezing outside, but better cold than suffocating.

Bobo quirked an off-coloured eyebrow at her and set dinner down on the small table and she spotted a liquor bottle in the bag. Willa moved over to the small stash of glasses she kept there and tossed him one, watching him catch it easily and they moved into a ritual that had taken hold at some point in the last ten years that this had been her home. They spoke about the town and how nothing ever really changed. The Revenants and the humans. It had been a long time now since she'd asked about her family. She'd never cared a lot for Waverly and Wynonna…. Wynonna had killed their father. Out of sight, out of mind. She had enough to deal with without focusing on that. And now she needed to put it back out of mind.

"You've never told me how you died," Willa interrupted the lulling silence, pouring herself another drink.

Bobo tilted his head. "I have not," he acknowledged noncommittally, the tone one Willa had come to know meant he had no intention to either, but she wasn't in a mood to let it rest.

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

He shifted at that, his expression guarded. "It's not a happy story."

"Neither is this, but it's the one we live. Daddy always said that Revenants were outlaws Wyatt Earp put down with Peacemaker, so what did you do to piss off my great great granddaddy? Tell me how a man like you became a demon."

She watched him carefully, taking in the small signs of stress in the way his lips twitched downward and how he wasn't quite looking her in the eye. Maybe the story was worse than she expected. "You know, after this long, whatever it is isn't going to scare me," she offered.

"Nothing to be scared of," he answered, his voice rough and deep. "I was a fool."

It was Willa's turn to frown and she reached for the bottle of whisky, topping off the glass in his hand and settling in to wait. She knew his tells and he knew hers, so he knew she wasn't letting this go. Her time in the treehouse had taught her patience if nothing else.

After a long moment he knocked back everything in the glass, poured again, and began to speak. His voice was even as he told her the story of a man by a name Willa actually recognized, but not as an outlaw. Robert Svane's name appeared in a set of letters penned by Wyatt Earp himself. The idea that the leader of the Revenants had been a close confidant and friend of Wyatt Earp's would have floored most people - she expected that it would have left her own daddy at a loss for words if he'd been alive to hear it - but for her it filled in the gaps. Watt had been his friend and he'd shot him, wrapped him up in this curse same as the Heirs. Bobo - _Robert_ \- was innocent and everything he was now was what this horrible curse had made him. He was a victim of it the same as her. Of all the reasons he'd given for saving her over the years - some she thought more honest than others - that was the one that felt the most true to her. They were kindred souls, both devastated and beaten down by something so far out of their control, so unfair, that it had nearly destroyed them.

But it hadn't. He had saved her. Despite everything, he had saved her.

He'd stopped talking now, and Willa felt the buzz of the liquor running through her system. She wasn't sure how long his story had taken, but the sun was long gone, leaving them only with the lights the stars and moon gave them.

Silence stretched between them and she reached out, her fingers touching the back of his hand and drawing his attention. "You're a good man, aren't you?"

He snorted at that. "Once, maybe, but not for a long time now."

"That's not your fault though."

"Don't make it any less true."

"This curse… twists things up," she said as she stood, reaching a hand out to touch the side of his face in a way she never had. It drew his eyes on her and she held his gaze. "Wyatt Earp screwed us both."

Willa wasn't sure if it was the trust he had given her or if it was the alcohol and the late night, but she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, her hand still lingering on his cheek.

He kissed her back, if only for half a moment before he stiffened and pulled away. "Willa," he managed, voice raspy and strained. "You're…"

Those clear blue eyes of his were focused on her and she saw a strange mix of emotions there, all of them conflicted. She pressed her forehead against his. "I'm not a child anymore, Robert. I haven't been for a long time, or hadn't you noticed?" He had. She could see it in his eyes that he had. "I want this. Don't you?"

There was a beat of pause in which she thought she may have misjudged something and Willa had no idea what would come next if she had. She started to step back, spin some lie to cover it, but he caught her hand before she could. He was on his feet his gaze holding her there as he brought a hand up to either side of her face and leaned in. Willa felt her eyes slip closed as he kissed her. Her hands shifted to rest on his sides, fingers gripping his t-shirt there to hold onto him. She had no idea where this would go or how a Revenant and an Earp could possibly make something work between them. All she knew was that they'd both suffered and they were both alone. They had been for too long, but here, in this moment with him, she didn't feel quite so hopeless. She felt alive.

* * *

Notes: Michael Eklund had a sort of impromptu Q&A on Twitter a couple of days ago, and I asked if he could see any fanfic about Bobo, what would he want to see. He said "Bobo and Willa: the treehouse years". While I've already written a couple that included Willa in the treehouse, this is the story that came up out of that tweet. No clue if he'll ever see it, but if he does, hopefully he'll like it.


	14. Costumes and Promises

**Costumes and Promises**

 _Some promises last._

* * *

She wanted to show him her Halloween costume. That's what she had told him the day before. She wanted to make sure it was perfect. Her class was having a competition and she was going to win. She wasn't there yet, and he wondered if something had distracted her.

Bobo lingered by the treeline, lit cigarette between his fingers, as he waited for his little angel to show. He brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, feeling it rush down his throats and into his lungs, the nicotine released into his system. He closed his eyes, doing his best to relax as he released it. Things had been hectic lately. Two of his boys had had a rather nasty run in with the Order, as they liked to call themselves. They typically stayed away from Revenants and focused on other demonic presences in the Triangle, but every now and again they got an itch and stepped in. Lately they seemed to be testing out a new theory to see if Peacemaker was truly the only thing that could put them down. One of the Revenants that they'd caught had gotten away mostly intact, but Bobo didn't envy him the experience. The Revenant leader grimaced a bit at the memory of his own run-in with a particularly ambitious and short-sighted generation of the Order.

"Those are bad for you."

He looked up at the sound of the young voice and he wasn't quite sure how she had managed to sneak up on him. Bobo took one last drag from his cigarette before standing from where he was crouched down, dropping it to the ground to crush it under his heavy boot. "They won't hurt me. Promise," he said with a wink that made her giggle.

"Daddy smokes too. When he thinks we're not watching."

But she was always watching. That much was evident by her getup. The youngest Earp sister was dressed in jeans that were tucked into her boots, a plaid shirt much like the ones her daddy wore when he wasn't on duty as sheriff. She wore a hat that must have belonged to one of her sisters. It was too big for her, too small for Ward.

She was grinning now as she realized he was looking over her outfit. "You like my Halloween costume? Look. It's Wyatt Earp's real badge." She thumbed at a metal badge Bobo knew well that was pinned to her shirt.

"You going as a sheriff?" he guessed.

"No, silly. I'm going as the Earp Heir!" Waverly looked very proud of herself as she stood with her arms crossed over her chest and grinning. "I guess it's hard to tell with just the badge. I _wanted_ to borrow Peacemaker, but Daddy carries it. He'd have noticed, so I had to use a toy." She pulled the little plastic gun from its plastic holster. "It's not long enough though, so you gotta use your imagination. See?" She pointed it out at the field, motioning like she was shooting at something. "You wanna play? The Heir has to hunt down all the Revenants - those are like these demon things. Daddy says that their eyes glow red and they're all really, really bad - and send them back to hell! You gotta shoot 'em right between the eyes." She made shooting sounds at the field as if she were aiming at some unseen Revenant. "That ends the curse. I can't do it for real because Willa's gonna be the Heir after Daddy, but we can pretend. You can help me end the curse, Bobo! Please?" She turned, looking at him. "Bobo?"

He was staring, he realized, the reality of their situation become so much more real as he listened to her talk. It was easy to forget everything when he was out here with her. Demons and Heirs and the curse were pushed back, his angel capturing his focus. The idea that she wanted the wield Peacemaker and put every last Revenant down hurt more than he thought it could.

"Bobo?" she asked again and tugged on his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he breathed out. He squatted down on his heels and looked up at that innocent little face. Angels and demons were on opposite sides. The truth of that hurt worse than a physical blow.

"Did the cigarette make you sick? Wynonna and Willa snuck one from Daddy one time and they were _so_ sick. Are you sick?"

He did feel ill. His stomach was churning and his chest was tight. It was bizarre. "Maybe that's it," he managed, looking for anything other than the truth that there would be a day - maybe sooner rather than later - when they would be enemies. She might never forgive him for these innocent days. The monster that pretended to be her friend. What if that's how she saw it? What if she thought he was using her? She wouldn't know - Ward certainly wouldn't explain it to her - why he had chosen to spend afternoons with the youngest Earp. He was a Revenant. Everything action would be seen through that darkness someday.

Waverly dropped her toy gun and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry," she said sweetly into the furs and he reached up, pulling her closer.

"Hey," he rasped, "I'm alright. Don't worry about me."

"You're my best friend. I don't want you to be sick or sad."

A rough chuckle left him. Sad. He was clever, wasn't she? There was no lying to her.

Waverly gave a little sigh as she settled in. "Bobo?"

"Yeah, Angel?"

"You think maybe I can end the curse and make everyone happy?"

He pulled in a deep breath, an image playing across his mind of Peacemaker pressed against his own forehead. If he were the last thing between her family and the end of the curse, he wondered if he still had it in himself to sacrifice like that. He had once, when he thought it would buy Wyatt's freedom, but even that hadn't worked out as planned. No, dying wasn't the answer. You couldn't influence the outcome at all if you were dead. There was always another way. He wouldn't stop looking.

"I think you're smart enough to figure anything you want out, Angel. Guns ain't the only weapon in the world."

"Yeah. I don't have to have Peacemaker to help," she agreed. "Bobo?"

"Hmm?"

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah," he lied and gave her a quick squeeze. He just needed to focus on the here and now. The future would be there soon enough with all of its troubles. All he knew for sure was the promise he'd made to protect his angel was the one that mattered more than anything else in the world.

* * *

It had been a long time since he had thought about that day, but as he lingered at the fence line waiting for the Heir to show Bobo found his mind wandering to it. She'd been all smiles and innocence in those days, and she hadn't had any idea what he really was. She had cared about him, his little angel. Now, just as he had thought might happen, she couldn't see past the demon. Not that he really should blame her after his bout with Bulshar. Even the thought of the demon's name sent chills up his spine and he focused on keeping the voice out of his head.

Well, it looked like Wynonna was going to take her sweet time. It wasn't like he could just walk up to the house to see what was keeping her, so here he was. Waiting. Bobo dug into his pocket and pulled a cigarette and lighter out.

"Those things are bad for you, you know."

He turned, finding a familiar face behind him. Waverly stood several feet back on the Earp side of the fence. She wasn't wearing her sister's cowgirl hat today or Wyatt's badge and, thankfully, she didn't seem to be there to hunt him down. Granted, she didn't look particularly happy either.

Bobo snapped the zippo lighter shut and tucked the single cigarette back away in its holder, tilting his head just a little. "I was expecting your sister."

"Wynonna's tied up just a little longer. I thought we could…. talk."

He quirked an eyebrow at that and watched as she moved over to the fenceline. She was wary, but not necessarily afraid. She certainly hadn't seemed afraid a handful of days earlier when she'd shoved the gun in his face after he'd bent over backwards to help them.

Several long moments passed with him watching her watching him and they were getting nowhere. "So, talk," he prompted.

Waverly huffed. "You were a lot nicer when I was a kid."

"You were a kid. Lots happened between then and now."

She shook her head, her hands resting on the top board of the fence. "I've remembered bits and pieces over the last couple of years. I convinced myself you were just a figment of a really active imagination." There was something in her eyes that was distant as she spoke. "I remember telling Gus about you once and…. I told her you'd just stopped coming. I had no idea why. My daddy was dead. So was my big sister, the other one was being toted off the the mental hospital… and you'd just stopped coming. I was all alone and I guess making myself believe that you weren't real at all was easier." She sniffed hard, turning to look at him. "And then I realized who you were and I got it. It was never about being nice. It was about manipulating me."

"Is that what you think?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Would you believe it if you were?"

Waverly blinked hard and Bobo held her gaze. He watched her clever mind work, weighing what had happened, what seemed to have happened, and every possible outcome she could comprehend. As smart as she was, he'd wager she couldn't come up with half of them. He'd been playing at this game and every angle that he could to stay on top longer than she'd been alive by multiple generations, though explaining that outright went against everything he'd become.

Finally she loosed a breath, stepping forward so that she could lean against the fence with her chin set in the crook of her folded arms. "I don't know if we can trust you. If _I_ can trust you."

Bobo leaned back against the post, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You told me once you wanted me to help you end this curse. Ending it's all I've wanted for over a century."

"And killing Bulshar will do that?"

He shuddered a little at the name. "It better."

"Well," Waverly said, her voice a little lighter as she climbed up the fence and took a seat on the top of it so that he had to look up at her, "if you promise not to screw us over, I'll…. try to keep an open mind. How's that sound?"

He found a hand extended towards him, reminiscent of the promises they made when she was young. "Deal," he told her gruffly, accepting her hand. It was bigger than he remembered and the shake was firmer than it had once been, but her lips curled up at the corners and the smile reaching her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing. This was a peace offering. One he knew he hadn't earned yet, but one she was offering him anyway. His angel might just forgive him yet, and for the first time in years he found himself hoping she would.

* * *

Notes: I almost left it at that first break, but it just left me too sad, especially with everything that happened in the S2 finale. I have a multi-chapter that I'm still working out in my head, but the second half of this little story would probably fit into it, regardless of the direction I end up going with it. I just really, really hope that Bobo and Waverly get some time next season to work together. It was so fantastic during the AU episode and to see them swing right back around to essentially being on opposite sides made my heart hurt. There was a little wink there right before he stole her gun that makes me think he was trying to tell her he wasn't going to hurt her, no matter what he was saying or how it looked. He knew from plenty of experience that those Widows were dangerous and he was playing the game.

Hope you guys liked it! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts :D


	15. What is Real and What Ain't

_Future fic. After Bobo joins the fight against Clootie a spell is cast over Purgatory that forces a person to face their worst fears._

 **What is Real and What Ain't**

The spell had washed over them, leaving a chill in the air that anyone inclined couldn't ignore. It crept in and around and over, the Earp Curse leaving the area open for it. If it was Bulshar himself that had cast it or he'd found another witch or demon to do his bidding, they wouldn't know until they got to the bottom of it, but from what they'd seen so far, Bobo had a pretty good idea what the spell was, even if not who was directly responsible.

The town was silent, like everyone had gone to hide in their own homes. Good. Let them stay there. It would keep them out of the way. They all knew how Purgatory reacted when terrified, and that seemed to be exactly what this curse did: creep into a person's mind, find what terrified them the most, and bring it forward. The Earps sisters' pet scientist was still in shock from what he had seen. What they'd all seen. That was the worst part of the visions: your deepest fear was played out for anyone around to see it too, putting everything out on the table and laid bare. That was enough to make Bobo want to end this as soon as possible. Long before the spell got to him and put everything he was afraid of on display. There was certainly a list to choose from.

"Whole town's shut in," Doc Holliday announced what they had already suspected. "Not a soul to be seen."

Jeremy cleared his threat, visibly trying to bring himself back around. "So, uh, how do we break this?"

"We find the asshole that cast it and I shoot him in the face," Wynonna said as she twirled Peacemaker. Her eyes shifted over to Bobo. "Any of your people have this kind of ability?"

"No," he answered tightly. Had the air gotten chillier? It felt like it had. That might mean that the person responsible for the spell was closer. A few fears had crept to the surface of his mind, ones that he didn't want to see played out. Waverly dead. Himself back under Bulshar's control. Staring down the barrel of Peacemaker at the end of this, even after he'd chosen to help them….

" _Robert_."

His name sliced through the still air and drew his attention. He knew that voice. It had been so many years, but he would never forget it. He couldn't. Blue eyes caught sight of the source of the vocalization and another chill swept through him. Not this. He hadn't even been willing to entertain this one.

"Bobo?" Wynonna called his name out, but he couldn't look away. "Who is that?"

"Wyatt," Holliday breathed. It would have been nice it it had been his fear, but Bobo knew it wasn't. It hadn't been the gunslinger's name he'd called.

A hush fell over them as Wyatt Earp approached, looking just like he had the last time Bobo had seen him. His eyes were fixed on the Revenant leader like they were the only two on the street and he couldn't break away. This wasn't real. Wyatt was dead and in the ground. This wasn't real.

Wyatt's gaze swept him up and down, taking in the changes in the man he'd once called friend. Bobo knew them all well enough, and even he knew that it was more than the style of clothing and hair. It was a change in his very being, and Wyatt could see that. He could tell in the way his eyes narrowed, creases appearing at the corners there and between his brows. The silence from him was painful as he studied Bobo, and somehow the Revenant could felt like he was looking straight into whatever tattered pieces remained of his soul. "Wyatt," he managed, the name breaking as it left his lips. He wasn't real. He had to remember that. This wasn't really him, but damn did it look like him. Sound like him.

"Robert, why? Why would you become this?"

"Bobo," Wynonna called from behind him, but her steps were halted.

"He's gotta face it on his own, Darlin'. We all do."

Bobo straightened, pushing back the hurt that Wyatt's expression stirred. "You know damn well why," he growled, his vision tinting red as he felt the hurt bend to anger. "Real or not, you don't get to pass judgement on me, Wyatt. Not when you've been dead and in the ground nearly _ninety_ years and I've been stuck here."

"And what have you done with it, Robert?"

Real or not, it didn't matter. This _felt_ real. He had thought about what he would say to Wyatt if he could have had the chance. Sometimes he imagined his old friend appearing, as broken as Bobo felt, and an apology on his lips as he pulled him in, embracing him and begging forgiveness for all the hell Robert had been through. For him. All for him. Sometimes Bobo forgave him, but on his darker nights as his imagination played the scenario through, he made Wyatt hurt just a little longer. Bobo had. He'd suffered through it all. Now, as he saw that stony expression on the other man's face, that same anger boiled. "Fought the damned war _you_ started," he snarled, straightening a little and stepping forward, motioning as he spoke. " _I_ took the bullet to take Clootie down. _I_ rallied to make sure he stayed in the ground while you rode off. I fought your war, Wyatt."

Wyatt didn't shrink back. He didn't apologize. There was no sympathy in his eyes or in his tone. "And who are you fighting for now, Robert? Leading the very devils I had to put down, standing by as my son and his son and his were _murdered_. You think you saved Willa? You damned her as surely as you are."

The words cut and Bobo felt himself falter, a sharp breath escaping him and his jaw snapped closed, teeth clicking together. "I did the best I could," he forced out, feeling the anger being overpowered by a need for Wyatt to understand. He'd fought for him. He'd _died_ for him, and when he'd woken up to find himself cursed and amongst his enemies he had dug in and beat back the urge the curse forced on him. He had done what he had to to rise up and keep things as under control as much as possible, making sure that the Revenants didn't run wild and run Purgatory completely into the ground. He'd remained as loyal as he knew how. And Willa…. nothing hurt more than what had happened to Willa. "I did the best I could with what I was given. You weren't _here_. I'm only one man," he snarled, his voice more desperate than he cared to admit.

"Not even that. You're a demon. You're everything we were fighting against." Wyatt shook his head, disgust written across his features as he turned. "You just weren't cut out for this. Not strong enough. Doc woulda been."

Bobo felt like he'd been dealt a physical blow. "Wyatt." The name escaped him, pained at the expression his old friend had worn and he reached out, trying to grab at the other man's wrist. Real or not didn't matter anymore. The pain was real, and that was enough.

He didn't stop though and Bobo stumbled forward. He was leaving. He was leaving him all over again. " _Wyatt_!"

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping the forward motion. "It ain't him."

Bobo turned, finding Holliday of all people standing there and he snarled lowly at the man he hated. It didn't phase him, though. Instead he was looking at him with…. understanding? It was a strange expression for John Henry to cast in his direction and Bobo looked away, watching Wyatt's retreating from. "I can still reach him," he mumbled, half to Doc and half to himself. "I can make him see-"

"That ain't Wyatt," Holliday repeated. "This thing… it wants to lead us away. You follow it, and you're done."

"How would you know?" he growled.

"Because I saw him too. When I was looking 'round town. I saw him and he told me he wished I'd stayed in that well. That ain't Wyatt."

Bobo blinked hard, realizing only then that angry tears were starting to cloud his vision. He heard what the other man was saying. He even understood it on a level, but so much of him just _needed_ to make Wyatt see. "I just need him to-"

"He can't. He's gone. He's _been_ gone and we're here. We gotta live with that."

It wasn't comforting. Holliday likely didn't mean for it to be, but it shook him fully back to reality. He looked back to see only an empty street where he had thought he'd seen Wyatt just moments before.

Bobo closed his eyes for a moment, pulling in a steadying breath, and when he opened them again he found several sets of eyes on him including Waverly Earp watching him and she tried for a reassuring smile. His gaze swept over to her sister who squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up. "You with us?" she asked, Peacemaker in her hand, and in that moment she'd never looked more like Wyatt. The real Wyatt, not the one that lingered in Bobo's darkest fears.

"Yeah," he huffed out and she nodded, turning on her heel to continue her march towards the source of the spell, the others falling into step. Wyatt might have left them to clean up the mess, but if he were to place his bet, Bobo was more certain every day that Wynonna would be the one to finish what her great great granddaddy started.

* * *

Notes: I've been wanting to write on something that took a look at Bobo's thoughts about Wyatt for a while now, and a conversation brought this around. Brownie points if you can name the quote the one-shot's named after ;)

As always, I'd love to know what you think!


	16. A Night Out

_Bobo has never been a fan of the Poker Spectacular in Purgatory, but this year the masked party being thrown for the players participating presents a unique opportunity for Willa to have a night out._

 **A Night Out**

He still wasn't sure what idiot had decided to host a yearly, high-stakes, cash-only poker game in a town full of immortal outlaws, many of which had been thieves of various sorts in their own time. The Poker Spectacular had been a source of irritation for him for years now. Even after he found a way to turn it around so that it at least made him some money, Bobo found himself busier than usual making sure that there wasn't open slaughter in the streets. That never did anyone any good, no matter how strong the bloodlust born of multiple trips to hell was in some of the Revenants that followed him.

This year was especially vexing with Cryderman harassing him to make an appearance at at the party being thrown. The players wanted to mingle with investors. All investors. Because Bobo didn't have anything better to do with his time than pander to a collection of pompous assholes, but they were insistent, and therefore his pet judge was insistent. It was a painful truth that even Bobo Del Rey had to give to get every once and awhile.

There was one silver lining to the whole situation and that was that the Poker Spectacular was landing close enough to Halloween this year that it had been turned into a masked party and that gave him the unique opportunity to bring the one person he _wanted_ to spend the evening with. It was still a risk, but the smile she had given him when he'd brought it up had made it worth it.

They'd had to come in separately, but he'd arranged it all to keep her as safe as he could. He hated leaving her, but Willa was taking it in stride. She saw it as an adventure with a romantic rendezvous at the end of it, like one of her books. He was just glad that this crowd wouldn't even know the name Willa Earp, much less recognize her.

The large room in the Wainwright Hotel was buzzing and Bobo hated it. Cryderman caught him, acting as if it had been Bobo's idea to come and reminding him yet again that these men expected a certain level of class in this place and on and on. It was becoming harder each year to deal with this idiot. At some point he made an offhandedly comment on any of the _ladies_ from the trailer park that Bobo might have brought along that night. Well, he did have a reputation. Some of it was earned and some he just let people believe what they wanted to.

Finally he broke away and started his search as subtly as he could, sticking to the outskirts of the party. Men and women laughed and drank and danced, already a little inebriated, and all wearing masks, making finding one woman in a black dress difficult.

Then he spotted her. She was striking, standing off towards the side of the room with a glass of champagne and a fake smile as one of the players in town for the game chatted her up. She was watching him carefully, a hint of caution just beneath the fake cheer, as if she were ready to break his nose at the first wrong move. If she did, he'd never know what hit him.

A pair of pale green eyes flickered his direction and her smile turned a little more real. The man that looked to have been trying to ask her for a dance followed her gaze after a beat and as Bobo moved a little closer he heard him mumble a grousing slur against all locals as he skulked away. It didn't matter. None of them mattered. She was beautiful and Willa was the only person he could see in that moment.

"I'm not sure I was aware you owned a suit," she said by way of greeting, her gaze running up and down the three piece black suit he had gotten his hands on. "Much less one without fur on it."

He smirked a little at her, pulling her hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. His gaze flickered up. "We agreed not to draw too much attention."

"Robert, you _always_ draw attention," she murmured, her tone suggestive and he finally straightened, his thumb still ghosting over her knuckles and she closed her grip loosely around his fingers to hold him there. Those eyes of hers were mesmerizing, even half hidden behind the mask. He might have gotten lost in them if she hadn't moved, reaching up so that her hand pressed against the back of his neck and guided him in. He melted into the kiss, the room around them inconsequential as her other hand rested on his side and his moved to the side of her face, fingers tangled in her dark blonde hair.

"I'm liking this whole getting out thing," she murmured a little breathlessly. "We should do it more often."

"When we're free of this place," he promised, his voice rough as he leaned his forehead against hers.

"We're close, Robert."

He murmured a soft sound of agreement.

"You know, that guy that was over here was trying to get me to dance with him."

"Was he?"

She hummed softly, catching his eyes again. "I told him someone else had already asked."

Her gaze was expectant and he lifted one off-colour eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to keep you," he teased and she swatted at him playfully.

"Dance with me."

His smile lingered and he glanced out to the crowd of visitors to their cursed little town. A few locals mingled as well, but the crowd had reached that happy state of intoxication at this point that meant they wouldn't notice anything that wasn't right in front of them. They were there, and joining in actually made them less conspicuous than lingering in the corner, but it had been _years_ since he'd danced with anyone. He wasn't sure he even remembered how.

"I'll be damned, Del Rey. You did manage to class it up some."

Bobo felt his irritation spike at the sound of Judge Cryderman's voice. The last thing he needed was him sniffing around and wanting to chat with Willa.

The judge was leering at the young woman, not even bothering to hide it. She stood still, watching him with a stony expression, but she wasn't afraid. Not his Willa. She might not have a lot of experience with the outside world, but that didn't mean she was incapable of handling herself, even now.

"You local, sweetheart?" Cryderman asked and Bobo growled lowly, managing to pull the attention to him instead of her.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

Bobo's tone shook the judge and he shrank back a little. Good. It was time he remembered his place. He forgot it far too often. He mumbled some excuse and some offhandedly comment about her needing to charge him more and the Revenant glared after him, keeping his more violent tendencies carefully in check.

"What did that mean?" Willa asked, her expression curious.

"He thought you were a whore," Bobo grumbled irritably.

The woman he loved was quiet for just a beat before he felt her gaze on him. "Do you tend to bring whores to these events?"

Well that was a loaded question if he had ever heard one. "I don't usually come to these events," he answered roughly and pushed a breath out through his nose, his mind made up. He extended a hand and she stared at it like she wasn't sure what he was asking. "Do you still want to dance?"

She didn't smile for him, but she took the offered hand and he pulled her out onto the dance floor. Willa leaned against him, her arms around his middle and her cheek pressed against his shoulder so she didn't have to look at him while they swayed slowly. He could almost feel her sorting slowly through what had just happened and the possible meanings behind it. There was so much of his life she didn't see and even though she saw a kinder side of him than most, she knew what he was. It wouldn't be a far jump for her to make, and that seemed to hurt her to think he might be sharing his bed with anyone else.

Bobo pulled her a little closer, leaning in so that he was speaking directly into her ear. "You're the only person I love. The only one I'm with," he promised softly. "As long as you'll have me."

Her grip tightened on him. "Swans mate for life," she murmured, pulling a smile from him.

"Yeah."

"Thank you, Robert."

"For what?"

She nuzzled in as they swayed, a sigh escaping her. "This."

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't give her everything she deserved in this life. Not yet. Soon though. When she turned twenty-seven they could walk across the line together and break the curse. They could wander far and wide and they could grow old together. He could prove to just how much he loved her. Soon.

Until then, he would do the best he could with what they had.


	17. Lose You

Writing prompt for an anon on Tumblr: Prompt #43 - "I'm not going to lose you again!"

 _Future fic. When Bulshar comes across Bobo and Waverly, Bobo has to make a decision if he's going to protect his angel or himself._

* * *

 **Lose You**

It had all happened in a blur of chaos, like everything in their lives.

One minute she had been sure he was evil. Absolute, pure evil that could manipulate a child to help him attack her family, steal her sister away, and bring about every ounce of pain that they'd felt. That certainty had overshadowed any goodness, any fond feelings that she had had for him and it had given her the will to push those memories down that countered that understanding… even if they crept up and in and around like a reminder that this whole situation might not be as straight forward as she was trying to make it.

Then Doc had told her that Bobo had offered her to Clootie and she'd felt a sense of confirmation. She had been right to distrust him when she saw him with the Widows, even if he'd just helped her to bring Wynonna back.

Things were never that simple when it came to Bobo Del Rey though. There weren't just two sides to a story, but many. They were broken and fractured, making it very difficult to tell what game he was playing at or whose side he was actually on, but then he'd fought free of Clootie's hold and he and Wynonna had made their deal. He was going to help them. If Wynonna was willing to end Clootie - Bulshar - once and for all, he was willing to help them finish what he and Wyatt had started so many years before.

Waverly hadn't trusted him right away. How could she? The fact that a part of her wanted to was beside the point. It was childish and naive, just as she had been when she'd slipped through the fenceline to go play with her so-called imaginary friend. In the weeks that he'd worked with them she found herself remembering those days and the way he had hoisted her up on his shoulders and paraded her around until she nearly fell from her perch giggling. Or the way he'd pulled her from the icy lake and wrapped her up in his coat to make sure she was safe and warm. Or how they'd sat together at the fenceline and she'd told him about how lonely she felt and he'd promised her - he had _promised_ her - she would never be alone. As long as she wanted him, he would be right there with her.

She had started to see glimpses of what she remembered in him, but she hadn't quite let herself trust. Not yet. She had pushed him away on the rare occasion he tried to reach out, she had done everything that she could not to let the brief flash of real emotion in his eyes make her heart ache. He had been her very best friend once and she didn't dare risk that kind of attachment again if it hadn't been real.

And then Clootie had come to make good on the promise Bobo had made while under his influence, and instead of giving Waverly up to him he'd put himself between her and the demon. Bulshar had reached out, power ripping through the air, and Bobo's boots had left the ground as he'd been lifted into the air, his entire body rigid and his scream echoing across the space.

There was nothing Waverly could do as she'd seen his eyes flash red, deep and dark and angry, and that last strip of dark hair on his head turn white as the demon set him down, crumpling and twitching at the dark power that had rushed through him, and when he rose he wasn't the man she'd hoped was real. Clootie had him again.

This wasn't fair. He had given himself up to protect her and now he snarled, a sick smile twisting his lips as he watched her, tilting his head. His eyes were red. They remained red. She'd never seen a Revenant so fully possessed. So void of anything less than evil. It wasn't fair. This wasn't him, and somehow it had taken seeing him like _this_ for her to know for sure that the man she'd known as a child was how he should really be.

"Run along, Little Sister," Bobo said, his voice low and vicious. "The deal won't last long."

The deal. Him for her. That had been the deal he'd struck with Clootie. He would give himself willingly if Bulshar would let the youngest Earp sister run.

Her vision blurred and she balled her fists at her side, digging her boots into the soft ground. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Stupid child," he growled. " _Go_."

He was there. She could hear him just behind the violence and the cruelty of his tone. He was trying to get to run. Trying to save her one last time, but if he could do that then he wasn't entirely gone. She could still save him.

Tears slipped down Waverly's cheeks as she took a determined step forward. She didn't have any backup and this might be the biggest mistake of her life, but she wasn't going to leave. She'd lost him once. When her daddy had died, when Willa had been taken, and Wynonna had been committed, Bobo had stopped coming to see her. She'd lost everything in one fell swoop, and she had hated him for it. Part of her had hated him enough to convince herself it had never happened. Not really.

But it had, and this man that had been there for her when her own daddy never needed her now. No matter how complicated it was, he was her friend. Somehow he always had been.

"I'm not losing you again!" Waverly screamed, her voice cutting through the air and a sob escaped her as she found herself directly in front of him now. She could feel the darkness coming off of him in waves, but he was fighting it. He was trying. For her. And if he was going to fight for her, she was sure as hell going to fight for him. It was passed time that someone did. "I'm not losing you again. You don't get to make that choice for me again."

He was frozen in his place, his expression taught as she stood in front of him. She must have looked like a mess with the way the tears were streaming now and she could hear Clootie whispering through the air. He stood back, though, waiting to see what his would-be servant would do.

Waverly swallowed hard, her voice still cracking as she spoke. "You protected me. You made sure Willa didn't drown me and that even if Daddy forgot my birthday that you wouldn't. You listened to me and let me drag you into tea parties and woodland princess games and…. It's my turn. It's my turn to be here for you. Just…" She squeezed her eyes closed, but when she opened them she reached out, her hand outstretched to him. "Just don't go. I don't wanna lose you again."

Bobo faltered, the darkness around his eyes fading and the hue shifted back to their natural blue. He loosed a pained breath, shoulders hunched forward and he looked like he might fall towards her. "Angel," he breathed. "I can't. He'll take you."

The gunshot went off, startling both of them, and Bulshar jolted at the shot. It hadn't made contact, but it was enough to send him skulking backwards. Waverly whipped around to see Wynonna standing on the hill just a few yards away, Peacemaker aimed and a deadly expression on her face. Doc, Dolls, and Nicole stood with her, all armed and ready for the fight.

"You want to live today, Bulshar, you leave without them. _Both_ of them," Wynonna warned dangerously.

Waverly looked back to see Clootie slipping back. He was outnumbered and perhaps even outpowered without Bobo fully on his side. He hissed a threat into the air and Bobo shuddered at it, pitching forward suddenly and Waverly caught him, not quite able to keep him on his feet but she sank to the ground with him.

He struggled to pull air into his lungs, blue eyes unfocused head of him and Waverly reached a tentative hand forward to his arm. "Hey?"

That drew his attention and he clicked his teeth, clearly struggling to regain control. "Yeah," he breathed out.

"You with me?"

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

There was a pause there, a flash of pain deeper than she'd ever seen from him before in his eyes and he closed them. "You shouldn'ta stayed." His gaze flickered up and behind her to Wynonna. "You shouldn'ta come."

"Tough," Wynonna huffed. "You know, when you told us you were on our side and we accepted that, that meant we were on yours too. We don't leave people behind. Even asshole Revenants."

Waverly shot her a look and her sister shrugged. Bobo was staring at them both, his expression confused. The younger Earp sister offered a smile and reached forward, latching her arms around his neck in a tight hug that left him rigid. "What Wynonna's _trying_ to say is…. You're stuck with us."

He didn't relax, didn't even return the embrace, but as Waverly released him she saw a very tentative sort of acceptance in his gaze. They all had a lot to prove to each other, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't going to lose him again. Not if she could help it.

* * *

Notes: I have several themes that I'm hoping to see in S3, and one of those is that Wynonna and Waverly both choose to trust Bobo. Even when it gets difficult, they stick it out with him where he doesn't feel like anyone else has.


	18. Piano Lessons

Summary: _Waverly Earp wants to learn how to play a song on the piano and Bobo has never been able to deny his little angel something he could give. Pre-series._

 **Piano Lessons**

"It's not _fair_ ," little Waverly Earp told him as she threw a rock into the shallow stream, sending the water planning in all directions. "Willa gets to practice shooting with Daddy. Wynonna gets to go to those martial arts classes. Why can't I do something too?"

"You don't need to learn to shoot or fight just yet," Bobo said softly, trying not to cringe too openly at the idea. She was six. She shouldn't even be running around alone like she was, much less holding a gun and learning to kill things. Even he knew that. He just hoped Ward did.

"I don't mean _that_ ," the little girl told him, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Then what do you want to learn to do?" he asked, moving to take a seat next to her.

She frowned a little and ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed. Bobo nudged her. "I promise not to tell," he offered with a wink that brought her smile back. That was better.

"I wanna learn to play piano. Momma started teaching me…. but she left. I wanna learn a song for the talent show at school."

Bobo stared at her for a long moment, his mind spinning. Ward couldn't send her to a lesson or two to learn one song? It seemed simple enough. Waverly was clever. She'd pick it up in no time and it would make her happy. It _was_ simple enough. "What song?"

" _Pop Goes the Weasel_ ," she answered quietly.

He hummed lowly, mind working all the angles. It was possible, and he really couldn't deny his Angel anything within his power to give. "Do you have a few hours?"

"Yeah," she answered hesitantly.

"Let's see if we can find you a piano."

His little angel lit up with a smile that stretched across her face. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Really? You know someone that could teach me?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, scooping her as he stood and she giggled as he swung her around to sit on his shoulders. She cheered and he started forward, asking her to tell him all about the talent show as he walked.

It wasn't a short trek out to the old, rundown little church, but it was the only place Bobo knew of that had a piano where they wouldn't be caught by curious eyes. They finally made it though and Waverly nearly piled off his shoulders without his help in her excitement. He eased her down though and she ran up to the door, prying it open and squeaking excitedly as she darted inside.

Bobo was slower to follow, the church holding more bad memories than good. He'd died here, looking for one last chance at hope. He hadn't gotten it though and now he lived steeped in darkness. He'd been a good man, long ago. Now he wasn't sure he knew how to be anymore, even if he had the choice.

But even in the darkness he'd found a little ray of light, and he'd brought her here to make sure that smile didn't fade too long. Oh the irony.

"It's really old," Waverly said as she inspected the piano.

"It'll be out of tune, but it'll work for what you need."

"Are _you_ gonna teach me?" she asked, almost as if she had just realized they were still the only ones there.

He hummed a soft affirmation and he hoped it was true. He hadn't played in _years_. Over a century now, but surely a song as simple as _Pop Goes the Weasel_ would be easy enough. He remembered playing it for one of his brother's children on one visit that he had made. Funny that Waverly would want to know that very same song now.

"What all do you know?" the little girl asked as she dusted off the bench and took a seat, her feet dangling.

"Mostly hymns," he said and she gave him a funny look he was sure he deserved. "And your song, Angel. Let's see what we got." He folded back the cover over the keys and pressed one finger down. It was off, but not terrible. It would work.

His fingers moved, the old keys sticking and a few sounding worse than others, but muscle memory helped him pick out the old notes. He could almost feel Waverly beaming next to him as he started over, much smoother the second time through.

"You _can_ play!"

He stopped, shooting her a teasing glare. "You thought I was lying to you?"

She grinned at him and giggled as he pulled her in playfully, set her in his lap, and setting his chin on top of her head. "When have I ever lied to you, huh?" he asked and her giggles only increased.

"Never!" she answered when she got her breath back and she leaned back into him. "You'd never lie to me, Bobo."

His smile remained. _Never_ might be a stretch, but he tried to be honest with her. As honest as he could be. He would keep trying for as long as he could.

He cleared his throat and set his fingers back on the keys. "C'mon," he prompted softly and she put hers on top of his do she could follow the keystrokes. It only took a couple more times through before she wanted to try by herself, and only a few times more before she had it mostly right. She was a quick study, just as he'd thought she might be.

The hours got away from them and by the time she was satisfied that she knew the song well enough to practice at home and that she was finally ready to head back towards the Homestead, it was much later than he had anticipated keeping her. Halfway there her feet started dragging and he picked her up, feeling her wrap her arms around his neck and nuzzle in. "Bobo?"

"Yeah, Angel?"

"Who taught you to play?"

"My mother," he answered after a beat of hesitation.

"You never talk about her."

"She's been gone a long time, Angel."

"I'm sorry. What about your daddy?"

"Him too."

She pulled back so she could look at him. "You have anyone left?"

Bobo swallowed hard, but they'd reached the fence line and that was as good of an excuse as any to avoid that subject. He set her down carefully. "Go on. It's getting late. I'll wait until you get to the door."

She turned to look up at him, her expression so innocent and caring. "No one should feel lonely. I'll be your family, Bobo."

He didn't have a chance to respond as she turned, slipped onto Earp land, and darted for the house. Bobo shrank back into the lengthening shadows to make sure she made it alright and stood watching for a long time after the door closed behind her. He didn't deserve that girl. He knew that, but she really was the ray of light he needed.

* * *

Notes: This little story came both from a prompt on Tumblr and from a conversation I had with Marvinetta over there about if Bobo could play piano or not and it sort of escalated into this fluffy madness.


	19. Come to This

**Coming to This**

The voices faded in and out, like he was only catching every few words that were being spoken.

"...everything we can. His best hope is rest and time. We'll know more in…."

Robert struggled to focus on the words being spoken. He didn't recognize the voice right off. It was high pitched and a little nasally, but he couldn't see the speaker. He couldn't tell for sure who it was, and for some reason that mattered, almost like his mind was trying to remind him that there could still be danger. Why, he wasn't sure.

"...can't stay," a more familiar voice answered. Wyatt. That was Wyatt.

Suddenly it all came flooding back. They were in Purgatory, facing a sheriff down that the local padre had called a demon. Wyatt hadn't believed him and Robert had certainly been hesitant to, but then he'd seen him. Glowing eyes and cursing tongue, he'd seen evil standing before them.

He had to open his eyes. Had to make sure it was over and that his friend was safe. "Wyatt?" he choked out, struggling desperately to break through that last layer to consciousness.

"Robert. Easy. Take it easy."

The bed he was lying on sank down next to him as he finally forced his eyes open, his friend coming slowly into focus. Wyatt's brows were drawn together, the worry reflected in his eyes as he reached forward, his hand cool against Robert's face. His voice was surprisingly calm. "Look at me. Look right here." He waited half a beat until Robert complied. "Just breathe. You're alright. Doctor says you're gonna be just fine."

The panic subsided just a little. "We got him?"

"We got him. Thanks to you."

Robert loosed a shuddering breath, trying to pull his fractured thoughts together.

"Hey," Wyatt's soft voice brought him back around. "I have to go, but I'll be back, you hear me?"

"He won't remember this conversation, Deputy Marshall," that same voice Robert hadn't recognized mumbled behind his friend.

"That's alright." Wyatt offered a thin smile and Robert felt his hand close in his. "Just hold on for me, alright? I'll be back."

Robert felt the pull of exhaustion on him again and he struggled against it, even as his vision gave. When he opened his eyes again he was alone. "Wyatt?" he called, trying to sit up. Pain exploded through him and his vision blacked out again, his friend's name on his lips.

"Wrong Earp." The voice answered was different. He knew it well, but it didn't fit what he had just seen.

Blue eyes struggled open and their owner groaned. It wasn't his shoulder that hurt and it wasn't a gunshot that had taken him down. Not this time, and the blow that he'd sustained certainly would kill him. That didn't mean that it couldn't _hurt_.

"I'm going try not to be offended that you just mistook me for my great great grandfather," Wynonna snarked as she straightened from where she had been leaned over him as he came back around, giving the Revenant space to sit up.

Bobo did so, a low growl and a curse escaping him as he brought his hand to his head to inspect any damage. Whatever visible signs might have shown after the blow had already knitted themselves up.

"Bad dreams?" the Heir prompted as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on bent knees. No reason to rush it. It was clear that any of the Revenants that were left from the attack were gone now. They'd either run or been put down by Peacemaker. He and Wynonna had taken their fair show out together before someone had gotten a lucky shot in on him.

"Memories," he huffed and she looked a little surprised at the honest response. It wasn't exactly his forte, but in that moment what did it matter?

"Well," she said as she stuck a hand in his face to offer him help up, "you've got me, not him."

He looked up at her for a moment, hearing the frustration in her tone. She thought she had to struggle to match up. She had no idea how closely she already came. Wynonna was more like Wyatt than she could possibly know. Certainly more than any other Heir he'd come into contact with.

That both complicated and simplified things for him, but for now, it meant they were aligned. As Bobo grasped her hand, standing and surveying the chaos that had been left in the wake of the Bulshar-loyal Revenants attacking the Earp Heir and Bobo Del Rey, he knew it had always been coming to this.

* * *

Notes: I'm not sure if I should apologize for the overload of fanfiction that will be coming your way the next few days? I received about 10 or 11 prompts in my Tumblr inbox and I'm desperately trying to fulfill them before Wednesday when The Blacklist comes back on air. I'm not 100% sure how that's going to affect my writing for this series because I tend to write quite a bit for the Blacklist. And because neither FFN or AO3 allow for queuing stories, they're getting posted when I can. Hopefully that's not a bad thing?


	20. Hands

_Summary: Willa knew those hands well. Fic prompt #91: Can I hold your hand?_

 **Hands**

When she had been young she had been terrified of those hands. They had grabbed onto her by the collar of her nightgown and hauled her away roughly, their owner giving assurances to the ones that had dragged her out of her home that the Heir's oldest daughter would never live to be the Heir herself. She had fought, not calling out for fear that he'd make good on the first one's threat - she could still hear his voice, even today, threatening to go back after her sisters - and clawed at the hand that hold of her. She'd pulled at his rings, at the bracelets he wore. She'd even gotten a couple off in her fight before he'd shook her hard, growling at her to stop and the flash of red eyes pushed her to obey.

He had pulled her into the thicket, one of those hands moving over her mouth, and she had heard that deep, gravelly voice that she had come to know so well since then. "If you want to live, scream once when I uncover your mouth and then don't make another sound until I say. Got it?" He had waited until she nodded and he caught her gaze. Even in the dark she could see how his eyes had shifted back to their natural blue, and there was something desperate in them. "Make it count."

Willa had screamed, the sound echoing across the Ghost River Triangle. It was chilling, but as soon as she had used up her breath for it she had snapped her mouth shut and those hands had dragged her elsewhere without any further explanation, one always with a death grip on her shoulder like his threats of death weren't enough. There were things worse than death, she supposed.

He had stored her away in the place she now called her home over a decade later and she had come to know those hands well. They were the ones that had held her shoulders so that she had to look at him as he told her she couldn't leave, that the others thought she was dead and if she didn't want to end up like her dear old daddy, she'd do exactly as he said. They were the ones that had run nervously through the stretch of dark hair on the top of his head to smooth it down when he needed to buy time to think about his answer to a question she'd asked, and the ones that still danced when he talked so much of the time. They'd carried food for her, clothes, and books. Presents of all sorts over the years she'd been there. She had put a knife through one, very early on, in an attempt to escape, and she had seen that Revenants bled differently than humans that day, but they did in fact bleed.

She knew every mark on those hands, Willa realized as she found herself looking at them now in the early morning light. Every freckle, every scar. He had one that ran along his left thumb where he said he'd clumsily cut it with a knife, trying to sharpen a pencil long before he'd been cursed. His left hand was the dominant of the two, but in his day people were expected to adjust to fit what was considered normal. He wrote with his left hand though, but he said he shot with his right. Not that she'd ever seen him even hold a gun. He had other forms of defense should they ever need it.

He did love his rings. They rarely changed, though he'd added one over the years. A very thin ring he wore on his left pointer finger that Willa had managed to fashion herself. A bracelet or two were from her as well now, mixed in with the others and hardly different enough to draw attention, but she knew, and in her own way it was something she could send with him until she could go as well.

It had been many years since Willa had been afraid of those hands. It was almost funny to think about now as she watched those fingers twitch lightly against his pillow, some dream or another causing him to stir. He'd never hurt her with them. Even when she had lashed out he did only as much as was needed to protect himself. There had been days early on when she'd waited for him to come, to bring her food or anything she might have asked for, and she would try to get the jump on him. Her daddy had taught her how to fight Revenants, but she wasn't sure what to do with one that gave little fight back. He never left a mark on her, though she'd left a few on him.

It was different now. She knew him. He wasn't the monster her father had described. He was gruff and irritable, but he was also gentle and thoughtful. He had been her protector, her savior, and eventually she had convinced him it wasn't going to destroy either of them if he loved her as well.

Her lips curled up at the corners as he turned and she saw his eyelids fluttering against the dream. She reached up, her own hand creeping towards his to wake him gently. "Robert," she whispered, and while he pushed a sharp breath out through his nose he didn't wake. Her smile tilted back down as she watched his fingers take hold of the pillowcase and latch on. A nightmare then.

Willa was careful as her fingers touched his tense fist and she called his name again. "Robert, it's just a dream."

Blue eyes snapped open and he pulled in a breath, startled by her voice and whatever he'd been fighting. She laid there very still, waiting for him to gain his bearings.

After a long moment he cleared his throat. "'Mornin'," he greeted roughly.

"Just barely." Her finger was still tracing the side of his hand and he finally seemed to notice, forcing himself to release his grip on the pillowcase to accommodate the unspoken request. Willa's smaller hand slipped over his, fingers wrapped around to hold his hand. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Did you win?"

He snorted a mirthless laugh. "Not yet," he answered and his voice was a little sad. She had had no idea when she'd first met him just how much he carried all alone. She couldn't take it from him, but she could help him bear it a little easier.

"You need to talk?"

Robert shook his head a little, burrowing down in his place with his cheek pressed against the pillow. His hand tightened around her fingers and he inched forward, kissing them, before settling back down and letting his eyes drift closed again. She watched him for a long moment before letting her own flutter closed as well, focused on his touch and hoping that neither of them would face their own personal demons if they claimed just a little more sleep.

* * *

Notes: I still haven't found the actual conversation and it may not have been recorded (someone did tweet about it though), but apparently at EarperConUK this year Michael made a comment that he chose to paint his pinky fingers as Bobo to show support for victims of child abuse and to show that Bobo never abused either of the girls. I feel like Bobo and Willa can be such a twisted story, but the writers (and actors) have done everything they can to show that, yes, it was twisted, but at least not in _that_ what, if nothing else. I really hope we get some more information on them in S3 to tell us how their relationship started and what went into that. The more I dive into it in fanfiction the more I want to know about it for canon.


	21. Trust

Summary: _Wynonna sends Doc and Bobo on recon together in hopes they might hash out some of their trust issues. Taken from the writing prompt #48:_ " _I made a mistake."_

 **Trust**

Wynonna was delusional. That was the only excuse as to why she thought sending them out to follow up on the potential lead together would do any good. Recon or not, Bobo Del Rey and Doc Holliday hated each other, and putting them together without a buffer between them was dangerous.

Holliday had been grumbling the whole way, a snide comment here and there dropped as they walked out towards an old mill where they were set to meet one of the Revenants that claimed to still be loyal to Bobo. Carl had said he had information on a stronghold Bulshar was putting together. Someone had slipped near him and he'd gone right to Bobo, he swore. He was one of the ones that Bobo was more hesitant to trust, but fear kept many of those in line. The threats he gave wouldn't hold nearly as much weight if the other Revenants thought that those that followed the Heir were at odds with him though. It was that alliance that gave them enough hope to choose him over Clootie, and if Holliday kept at it even when they reached the mill, they were going to have trouble. Maybe not immediately, but it would sow seeds of doubt. None of them could afford that at this point.

A sharp, irritable breath left the Revenant leader as he turned, eyes flashing red briefly before regaining a little more control as he focused in on the gunslinger. "You have something you want to accuse me of, Holliday, spit it out. Otherwise shut your damn mouth and keep walking."

John Henry came to a halt so he wouldn't run directly into him and narrowed his eyes. "I did not think I was mincin' words. I do not trust you, Bobo Del Rey. Wynonna thinks there's somethin' left in you that hasn't been thoroughly and completely tainted, but I know better. If there was anything left once, it's been burned right out of you. You betrayed Wyatt, you were ready to sell Waverly to the demon you say you're willin' to fight, and hell if you didn't even ruin the woman you profess to love to the point that she met her own end. You say you want to help us win this war, help Wynonna? You are _incapable_ of helping the Earps. You've proven that much."

There was a long pause as the late Wyatt Earp's two friends stared at each other. Bobo's jaw set as he watched the other man down, his teeth clicking lightly together, and he struggled to keep control. He didn't give a damn that Holliday couldn't follow a long game without mistaking it for betrayal and he was _well_ aware the damage he'd done to his angel's trust in what happened with Bulshar while he'd been under the demon's influence, but Willa…. That was low, even for Doc Holliday. He would have done anything, would have given anything to save her, and the understanding that he'd failed her in that ate at him in a way even hell's own fires couldn't.

"I'm sure you can see why I'm a little hesitant to have you bein' the one to watch my back on this," the former dentist continued, "but it is what it is, and we're already here so I will just say that if you betray me on this, Bobo -"

"What, Hank?" the Revenant cut him off, his voice low and dangers. "You'll kill me?"

"I think you and I both know there are things worse than that. Your boy's here."

The feud would have to wait. Bobo forced himself under control, shoving down the impulse the reach forward and snap the gunslinger's neck. He leaned forward, though, voice low so that there'd be no way the approaching Revenant could hear. "You have no right to mention her name to me. Ever." He straightened, not giving John Henry any time to respond as he turned. "Carl."

The scruffy looking Revenant looked more nervous than usual, his eyes darting around like he was waiting for someone to jump out of the bushes at him. "It's just up ahead, Boss. Just like I said. I just came from it and the whole thing's abandoned, but they've started storing stuff there."

"And why wouldn't a stronghold be guarded?" Bobo asked, watching the younger Revenant's expression tighten.

"He don't think anybody knows about it, I guess. All I know is what they told me and there ain't nobody there right now."

"Then let's go have a look, shall we?" He waited until he received a nervous nod of confirmation before he stepped forward. "Now," he drawled, clasping one hand down on Carl's shoulder, "I don't have to tell you what happens if you screw us on this."

"No, boss. 'Course not."

"Mm." He tightened his grip. "I will personally track you down and haul your worthless ass over the line myself. How many days did Levi scream before he chewed his own foot off? You remember, Doc?" He glanced back to see the sharpshooter watching him with a stony expression that he must have meant to hide the discomfort over the subject. "No? Well, it was over a week. I hear you couldn't even recognize him by the time the Heir found him and put him down. You betray us, and you won't get that mercy, Carl. She won't save you from me."

Carl swallowed hard. "The info's good, boss. I wouldn'ta brought it to you if it weren't. Like I said, it's just up at the old mill. Checked it myself before coming down to meet you."

Bobo waited a long moment before finally releasing him. "Of course it is. Holliday?"

"After you," John Henry answered, his hands already hovering close to his guns. Well, he might have been enough of an asshole to bring Willa into their squabble, but at least he wasn't a complete idiot. Something about this didn't set right, and it was something at least to know he wasn't alone in sensing it.

Bobo watched their surroundings as they started towards the mill in question. It was old, abandoned, as so many things were in the space surrounding the town of Purgatory. Even as things changed, though, they never really did. People may have tried to leave them behind, but the cursed grounds of the Ghost River Triangle remained stubbornly the same and the old mill looked to be in decent enough shape for not having been used in so long.

There were signs of people traipsing through the main building that had been used for the mill. Footprints were left in the dust and equipment had been moved to make way. Bobo saw Holliday take a detour through a doorway to the right of the one they'd entered through. Let him search. Maybe if Bobo were lucky John Henry would get himself killed here. The thought immediately soured with the understanding that he'd likely be blamed for it and he focused on his surroundings. He'd used enough abandoned sites before to know what to look for in them, but nothing about this was adding up. People having been there didn't equate them using it. Maybe Carl had… Where was Carl?

A low growl escaped him and Bobo looked around the room. The shifty little Revenant had slipped away. They needed to get out of there. Nothing good was going to come of this.

His boots sounded softly against the old wood floors as he followed after Holliday, finding the man crouched over a collection of crates, the one directly in front of him open. He moved like he'd heard Bobo approaching and the Revenant could see how he was watching him out of the corner of his eye now. "I do not profess to know a great deal about modern explosives, but this does look like it'd do a fair amount of damage. Ol' Carl might have been onto somethin' after all."

Bobo stepped closer, peering into the crate. Inside were explosives, wired and blinking at them. He didn't know much about about them either, but he knew lights blinking weren't good. That coupled with Carl suddenly missing really could on mean one thing. "We just walked into a trap."

Doc stood slowly, but as he did the lights began to blink faster. "Well damn."

There was no way to tell how long they had, but Bobo moved back towards the front door to find it barred from the outside. He reached out with his powers, checking for any sign of metal in it that might be useful and finding none. The wood made it impossible for him to budge it with anything other than brute force, and even that seemed far fetched with the time they might or might not have.

"Back exit," Holliday snapped from behind and he was already going for it across the stretch of the long building. Bobo took off after him, but he could already feel the shift in the air around them give the only warning they had.

Everything seemed to slow, yet it all happened at once, making it difficult to follow the actual order of events that took only seconds to unfold. There was a flash, a roar of an explosion as it ripped through the building. There was nothing he could do to shield himself from that and he felt shrapnel and pieces of wood from the flooring slicing through flesh as he was picked up and thrown forward, bouncing and rolling before he slammed into something solid that stopped him. Bobo struggled to hold onto consciousness. The initial blast wasn't the only danger.

He fought through the ringing in his ears and the way shadows were already dancing across his vision, threatening to pull him under, and he could feel the dangerous shift in the building that was crumbling around them. Holliday was laid out just ahead of him, the pressure from the explosion knocking him for a loop and a beam above him gave way to come crashing down.

The mill was steel and concrete and wood. Bobo couldn't do anything about the wood, but the metal he could control. He focused, feeling the burn of the brand on his back with the effort he was having to put into it to try to keep the entire roof above from caving in on them. He could slow it, even if he couldn't stop it entirely. There was too much, even just focusing on the space between he and Wyatt's best friend, and a sharp cry escaped him as it came crashing down.

Bobo wasn't sure how much time had passed between the room coming down around them and his vision finally clearing a little. He coughed against the dust that was visible in the rays of late afternoon sun that were streaming into the half-destroyed mill. He shifted, debris all around him, but it looked like he'd managed to keep most of it from crushing him. He sat up slowly, a pained snarl leaving him as he did and he reached around for what might have been the source. It was difficult to say when his entire body hurt. His hand came back with dark brown blood on in and he shook his head, trying to clear it. He'd heal. He always healed, but the idiot he'd been stuck with for this failed attempt of an afternoon might not have been so lucky. Not anymore.

"Holliday? You alive?" Bobo called, his voice rough and he coughed as some of the dust worked its way down his throat along with the air he was trying to pull into his lungs.

There was a beat of silence that followed and the Revenant squinted, trying to get a better view without having to move again just yet. It was going to hurt like hell when he did and he much preferred getting his bearings first.

Finally, after a long moment, he heard a struggling cough and a curse. A slab of wood moved and he saw it shuffled off of John Henry Holliday as the gunslinger sat up, another string of frustrated profanities leaving his lips. Bobo waited, watching in silence as the newly-mortal man checked himself over, a look of pain and irritation clearly written across his features, and then examined their surroundings. Just to Doc's left was a metal beam that had skewered the floor. "I'll be damned," he mumbled, blue eyes sweeping the area directly surrounding him. He'd been buried under some of the wooden structure, but nothing metal touched him. Those same blue eyes turned on Bobo. "Did you…?"

Bobo snorted, determination driving him to his feet even against the pain that threatened to take him back down. He didn't even _want_ to take inventory right then. He just wanted to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. "They'll come back to see if anyone survived, and I ain't carrying you out of here."

Doc seemed to catch the hint and grit his teeth as he stood, favouriting his left leg but managing to put enough weight on it to walk a few steps towards the door. He paused and Bobo hated to think he was going to have to help him in their escape too. He had reached and surpassed his limit of helping Doc Holliday that day. He opened his mouth to hurry him along, but John Henry loosed a long breath in the form of a sigh. "I may have made a mistake."

The Revenant stared for a long moment. "Come again."

"I ain't sayin' it twice," Holliday grumbled.

"Care to expand?"

"Nope."

"Just going to leave it open then?"

Doc shot him a glare and Bobo's lips quirked upward despite himself. It was far too easy to rile that man. How _did_ Wyatt ever get anything done with him?

"You could have shielded just yourself. I'm not fool enough to trust you entirely, but… I'm man enough to admit when I was wrong." There was a pause as Bobo stared at him and finally Hank shook his head, his voice just a little lighter as he spoke and he dusted off his hat before motioning at him with it. "But if you repeat it to a soul, I'll deny it to my dyin' day."

"Well, that would require me to admit I saved your sorry ass," Bobo said as he snatched the hat away from him on impulse, revelling in the reaction it brought.

"Wouldn't want to ruin your long-earned reputation," Doc growled back, reaching for it and missing.

Bobo tossed it back at him as he started by, his movements slow but steady as he moved towards the hole blown open in the side of the building. It hadn't been an apology for bringing Willa into the conversation, but the words had been an acknowledgement that might just let them move forward without trying to kill each other. They were never going to be friends - even Wyatt must have known that when he'd sent Robert to the drunken gunslinger to enlist his help - but they could be allies. They needed to be if they were going to defeat Bulshar, and they would defeat him. They'd all come too far not to.

* * *

Notes: Wow. This one was... difficult to write. Do you know how hard it is to get either of them to be nice to each other? It was like pulling teeth to get Bobo to save Doc and Doc to come even close to apologizing.

Them snarking back and forth, grumbling at each other, and occasionally coming to blows is something I'm looking forward to in S3.


	22. Deserved Better

**Summary** : Wyatt Earp gets a first-hand experience at just how much his friend Robert has changed since he last knew him.

Notes: One of the reasons I haven't buckled down and written a multi chapter spec fic is that I have to many ideas. One of those is where Wyatt comes back and the team finds him. I was discussing part of that idea with someone and realized how well this little part would fit the prompt. So here we are. I don't intend to have a resurrected Wyatt in any future one-shots (maybe? You never know. An AU to a little series of one shots that will eventually be AU?).

Writing Prompt #76 "You deserve so much better"

 **Deserve Better**

They'd found him locked away in what was little more than a dungeon. How long he has been there, Wyatt really couldn't say. It had been a blur of time. The one thing he was certain of was that it was Clootie's doing. He would never forget that demon's face.

Everything had happened so fast he had barely had time to process it. Three men had appeared at his cell door, one of which had been Doc Holliday. Wyatt had felt relief sweep through him as he pulled his old friend in. He was alive. How didn't matter. Not anymore. Not after everything.

The second man in - a deputy marshal by the name of Dolls he found out - had hurried Doc along in getting Wyatt free. The third spoke in a low, almost strained voice when he announced that they weren't alone and to get Wyatt out of there. He would meet up with them later. It hadn't been until they had gotten out that they had explained that their third was a Revenant himself. The other Revenants couldn't kill him even if they tried, so he was the one that got to buy them time. Wyatt never saw the Revenant's face and he didn't recognize the name that Doc called him by. Funny, he thought he remembered each of those that had been caught up in the curse.

Bobo Del Rey had kept tight control of most of the Revenants in Purgatory, so Wyatt learned. He had lost a lot of that when Clootie was resurrected, but he'd struck a deal with the current Heir and those still loyal to him were willing to help them put Clootie down in return for a free pass when all of this was over. Seemed like a fair enough deal. Or it would have been if they were still men and not demons.

And that was what had brought Wyatt Earp to this strange place with its high gates, guards armed with guns very different than the ones he was used to, and glowing red eyes side-eyeing him even as they let him in. He held his hands up as a sign of what he hoped was good faith. "I'm here to speak to Bobo Del Rey," he declared. He just needed to know for himself who this creature really was. He needed to make sure his great great granddaughter wasn't making a mistake that would cost her her life.

He made them nervous, that much was obvious. They wouldn't make eye contact with him and answered any questions he asked in short sentences. He finally caught one Revenant's eye, a thin smile quirking his lips at the way he shifted away when Wyatt called him by name.

Their mood seemed to change as another approached, and he looked about the right height for the Revenant that had been with Doc and Dolls earlier that day. Wyatt hadn't gotten a good look at his face, but he would now, and hopefully he'd have a better idea what to expect. There were half a dozen outlaws he'd come up with that might have changed his name and taken over, and none of those former men instilled any sense of trust in him.

"Wyatt Earp," that same deep voice from earlier greeted him as he approached. He was a sight with most of his hair shaved off his head except the strip of stark white hair, a single strip of black in it. He wore a heavy fur coat with buckles and straps, his shirt torn beneath it and his boots an odd style. Nothing like what Wyatt was accustomed to, but the world had certainly changed in the last ninety or so years.

It was those eyes that Wyatt recognized, and it felt like someone had dealt him a hard blow to the middle. He couldn't draw a reasonable breath in as he stared. "Robert," he managed with what remained of the air in his lungs and his friend stiffened a little at the name.

"Take a walk, boys," he instructed the Revenants around them.

"But he-"

"You think I don't know who he is? A man doesn't forget the one that killed him." Robert's voice was cold. Somehow those blue eyes were sharper when they weren't hidden behind his spectacles. "Plans haven't changed tonight. Get to work."

The Revenant Robert had directed the order to looked over to Wyatt. "You gonna have him take Carl over?"

Robert snorted. "Wyatt Earp? Wouldn't want him to dirty up that conscious of his. I said I'd do it myself. Nothin's changed." The expression he wore looking so foreign on his features. Everything looked… off. It left Wyatt feeling a little sick. Like a monster wore his friend's face. A demon.

The Revenants moved away to whatever business they were being sent on and Robert waited until they were out of earshot to turn back to meet Wyatt's eyes. "Let me guess, Holliday sent you here without telling you who I was, hoping you'd catch me in the middle of something you'd hate."

The words threw the gunslinger a moment. "I don't think that was his intention," he managed after a moment, but even he wouldn't have believed himself and it certainly didn't look like Robert did as he chuckled, flashing white teeth in a way that made him look strangely dangerous. He was, Wyatt reminded himself. He hadn't escaped the curse.

"Oh, I think you and I both know better than that," he murmured, something like amusement colouring his voice. "Hank gets his blows in where he can, and fighting for the same cause does limit him on the ones he can get away with these days."

Wyatt had always known that the two men wouldn't be close, but he'd hoped on some level they might be able to get past their differences. Apparently not.

He cleared his throat. "Well, at least I understand now why you were willing to side with Wynonna. I… I'd hoped that you might have escaped this curse-"

"Did you?" Robert tilted his head in question. "Because the good ol' padre got me a set of letters you left for me explaining everything. Sure as hell _looked_ like you knew I'd be caught in it."

Wyatt closed his eyes, gathering himself. Robert was angry with him. It wasn't like he'd _meant_ to wrap him up in this mess. He hadn't meant to get his friend killed. "I'd _hoped_ ," he repeated sternly. "I am sorry, Robert. Truly I am, but if this had to happen… at least we can face this together." He watched as Roberts expression melted from a sort of shock at his words to a laugh that chilled him to his core.

"Sure," he growled, the word harsh and biting as he turned.

Wyatt reached out, catching hold of the coat. "Robert, please. Nothing I can say can put this right, but we're both here now. What were you talking about earlier? Something that needed to be done."

He watched the man he'd once been close with close his eyes, a low snarl escaped him that was so very, very different than the Robert he'd known. He turned back though, his eyes flashing briefly red. "You wanna see what's happening here? Keep up."

Wyatt hesitated only a beat before following Robert's quick and determined pace through the collection of… homes? He wasn't sure, but he did see pairs of red eyes watching him as they moved, hell's own brand marking the scattered faces. He kept up with Robert until they made it to a circle and he saw those faces had followed them to the opening where a fire was building in the middle, a man chained there. He looked terrified and Wyatt looked to Robert for some sort of clarification as to what was happening.

"Don't interfere," was the only warning the naturally dark haired man growled as he took center stage.

The man chained near the fire started to whimper loudly. "I didn't have a choice, boss! Bulshar, he made me-"

Robert flashed forward with an unnatural speed, snapping the nearly weeping man up by the hair on top of his head and hauling him till he was standing. "You're not doing yourself any favours, Carl, calling _that_ name out here. You think he's going to save you? Protect you? No. You're expendable. That's why he sent you in. _I_ would have protected you, but you turned. I told you what would happen, didn't I? I warned you."

"Bobo, _please_ ," the Revenant - Carl - begged, but there was no mercy in those blue eyes.

"I warned you," Robert answered icily and straightened, eyeing the others. "Take this as yours. Clootie will be put into the ground permanently. He can't and won't save you. Not from me."

Wyatt watched as Robert reached down, unhooking part of the chain and the other Revenants murmured. "What will he do to him?" he asked the one closest to him and the demon blinked.

"Bobo warned us that if any switched to Clootie's side he'd haul 'im over the line himself."

"The line?"

"For the Triangle. Outside."

Then it clicked. They were stuck inside of it. "But he can't leave. None of you can."

"Without hell on earth, yeah."

That's why they'd asked if Wyatt was going to do it. He wasn't a Revenant. He wasn't bound to the Triangle like they were. "Won't that do the same to Ro- to Bobo?"

The Revenant shrugged. "Sure, but ain't nobody gonna cross him again. Not being willing to go that far."

Don't interfere. Now he understood, more than he might have been able to before. It had been nearly a century since Wyatt had passed away and the curse had truly begun. Robert hadn't had a choice in what happened, but there he was still fighting the fight. It was terrible and it was ugly, and it was impossible for someone to come out of that whole. The fact that he'd retained his loyalty in any shape at all spoke volumes. It was…. so very Robert, despite the changes.

The screams sounded in the distance they crossed the boundary. Wyatt could see the way the smoke was rising from both Revenants, but Robert remained stoic, fastening the chain and bending to speak directly in the prisoner's ear before starting back for the line.

No one moved to help him and somehow he was still on his feet. He swayed very slightly as he crossed back over, but kept right on going without a word, the screams of the one he'd left on the other side echoing. The other Revenants began to disperse, the show over, and Robert stalked in what looked like a particular direction.

Wyatt followed him to one of the tin homes that were scattered. "Robert?" he called softly.

"You wanna talk it'll need to be in here," Robert grumbled and Wyatt barely caught the door before it swung closed in his face.

He stepped in and _home_ was a very loose interpretation of the sparsely decorated space. If he lived there, it didn't look like he stayed there often. Robert moved to a cushioned bench and all but collapsed into it, his arm wrapped around his middle and his face screwed up in pain. "Shut the door and lock it," he managed and after a moment of looking Wyatt found the latch to do so. When he looked back over he saw Robert struggling out of his coat, patches of skin showing to be red and angry once his arms were free of it. He grunted as he pull something wrong.

"Hey, take it easy," Wyatt murmured, moving to help him, but he found himself startled to a stop as a snarl left his old friend, blue eyes shifting to red and the skin around it darkening. Interesting. No brand showed on his face like the others.

"What do you _want_ , Wyatt?"

The response died in the other man's throat. He wanted to help him, yes, but that really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. He had done this. This was his fault, and that realization was becoming more real with each passing second.

Robert grimaced and leaned back. "Can't you save whatever judgement you have to deal out until I've healed?"

Wyatt cleared his throat. "I have… no room to judge you, Robert. I think you and I both know that. You wouldn't…." He paused, not accustomed to being at a loss for words. Best just to be honest. "I did this."

Blue eyes blinked, pained expression giving way to confusion. He sat up a little straighter and he turned his attention briefly to the marks on his arms before long fingers started working at his shirt, pulling it up to inspect what was being hidden by it. Angry, red burns that looked like they went a lot deeper than any burn should - almost like he'd been burned from the inside out - stretched across his torso. They ran below and all along his ribs and up above where his shirt still covered them, some lighter marks appear above his collar line. "I told you to take the shot," he said after a long moment, his voice still gruff, but much less defensive than it had been before.

"You didn't know what would happen."

There was a sigh and he reached up to massage the bridge of his nose, a habit that even Wyatt knew. "Neither did you."

Wyatt set his jaw. "Don't you hate me for it?"

"Oh yes," Robert drawled out.

Well, that stung more than he'd expected.

The Revenant loosed a long breath and eased the shirt back down, finally meeting his eyes. "And no. It's…." He shook his head.

"Complicated," Wyatt murmured.

"Yeah." He reached up and ran his hand along the strip of hair on top of his head, flattening it down a little. "I didn't mind dying for you, Wyatt. I was ready to ride to hell and back if that's what you needed, and I _have_. I…" He closer his eyes. "Just woulda been nice if I'd meant as much to you too."

He felt abandoned. That's what this was. "Every letter you wrote back said you were doing better." The argument felt hollow even to him.

Robert snorted. "I lied."

"Obviously."

"What was I supposed to say, Wyatt? Come sit with me as I die? By the time I'd pushed it too far…. It was too late all the way around."

There was a beat of silence between them and Wyatt took a seat across from his newly injured friend, their eyes meeting. "I am sorry. I'd have come back if I'd known. I never meant for you to be alone."

"You always did love John Henry," Robert murmured and he sounded like he was echoing the words from someone else.

"And you," Wyatt promised softly. "You were my dear friend, Robert. For me, that hasn't changed."

"I'm a demon."

"You're Robert Svane." Blue eyes flickered up and Wyatt sighed. "I ain't saying you're the same as you were then, but that doesn't change your core. You're a good man, Robert, always have been."

Robert gave a mirthless chuckle. "Death made you delusional."

"And it made you a bit more of an asshole than I remember," Wyatt answered with a smirk of his own. "Lost that damnably polite tone of yours along the way, didn't you?"

His old friend's expression eased just a little. "First thing to go." He shifted, the amusement fading. "We should head back into town."

Wyatt nodded and stood, offering Robert a hand up. He saw the way that he looked at it funny for just a moment, like he wasn't sure if he should take it or not. "You deserved better than all of this. So much better."

"Yeah," he said roughly, finally accepting the hand and letting Wyatt help pull him up to his feet. "But now we're gonna give Clootie exactly what he deserves."


	23. Him or Them

Summary: _Bobo has no idea what could have prompted Wynonna to ask him such a dangerous question. Future fic. Prompt #9:_ _"Don't ask me that"_

 **Him or Them**

"Something's been bugging me."

Bobo turned from his perch on Deputy Marshal Dolls' desk, his feet propped in the currently - absent man's chair as he waited for Waverly and Jeremy to finish the search they were conducting on the computer. He hated the waiting, but sometimes there just wasn't any way around it. "Just one thing?" he drawled, glancing around at at Wynonna.

She motioned to his seat he'd chosen. "Dolls doesn't have a hat to steal so it's his desk, huh?"

The Revenant smirked. "That _does_ get under Holliday's skin, doesn't it?"

"You don't have to listen to him complain about it," the Earp Heir groused. "But you'll hear Dolls when he finds boot prints on his leather chair."

"I'm terrified," Bobo grumbled, rolling his eyes a little as he did. "That's what's been taking over your thoughts?"

Wynonna blinked, as if startled back to her original thought process. "No." She hopped on the desk with him and Bobo watched her carefully from the corner of his eye. She frowned a little and Bobo resisted the urge to sigh. For being tied much closer to the passing of time, mortals sure wasted a lot of it. "You know, I'm just going to come on out and ask."

"Please do," he huffed.

"Have you ever been directly responsible for one of the Heirs' deaths?"

Bobo Del Rey blinked. He'd seen and heard enough that it was tough to catch him by surprise, but if all the questions he might have predicted to roll off her tongue, that hadn't even made this list.

He narrowed his eyes a little. "Don't ask me that."

"Just did, and from your answer I'd say at least one."

Blue eyes slid closed and their owner drew in a deep breath. What could possibly have possessed Wynonna to ask that of all things? Didn't this alliance rest on shaky enough ground as it was without digging up some of the worst possible things? He didn't look for new reasons to hate her, she shouldn't look for new reasons to hate him. Simple. Or at least it should have been.

"Which one was it?"

"Really?" Bobo snapped and Wynonna quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Josiah or Edwin? Or both?" She shot him a pointed look and motioned to Jeremy and Waverly. "They're not going to be done for a while, and unless you've suddenly developed computer skills…."

He snorted. "I know how to use one."

"Uhhuh. Sure." There was a long stretch and she leaned back as if settling in. She wasn't going to let this go until he gave her something. Damn, she was stubborn. And far too much like Wyatt for either of their good.

Bobo shook his head, a low growl escaping him. "Edwin," he said at last, the name slipping from his lips. He hadn't spoken it in… years. He'd made himself a promise when he'd woken up on the floor of that church in 1929 after spending over forty years writhing in hell: he would never be the reason one of Wyatt's descendants met their end. He wouldn't let Clootie win like that. It had been a lofty goal born out of a desperation to find and hold onto anything from his former life, and one that he'd held onto through Josiah. He'd known the man, even liked him. Josiah had certainly known the name Robert Svane and at that point in time Bobo had still resembled the Heir's father's friend in some capacity. Bobo had been fighting his war with Lou when the Seven strung Josiah up, and while a little guilt had tugged on him, he'd been surprised to find it hadn't been as gut wrenching as he'd expected.

Then there had been a stretch of silence. Those that Josiah had put down with Peacemaker wouldn't rise until the next Heir came of age and Lou had been cast out of the little town, Robert - called Bobo by then, the name that he'd been given by his visiting angel once long before - reigning over them. There was… peace, of a kind, even as Edwin was already stirring. He hadn't been of age yet, though, so Bobo had been foolish enough to think he wasn't a threat.

The would-be Heir gathered support, though, from an organization called Black Badge. They were government and as Bobo heard the stirrings closer and closer to Edwin's twenty-seventh birthday, he approached him. He'd known his father. He'd known his grandfather. He was willing to keep peace between an Earp and the Revenants, keeping them occupied and distracted from the bloodlust bolstered by hell's own fires. He'd done it under Josiah and now that he had control over them without Lou to rile them, a true accord could be struck. Edwin had struck it.

And then Edwin had turned twenty-seven.

Bobo had reeled under Edwin's tenure as Heir. Eleven months. That's all he'd been there, and the Revenant leader had spent the first six trying to reason. He gave him the benefit of the doubt as Wyatt's grandson, but the sway he had had with Josiah didn't translate to Edwin. Yes, he met with Bobo. Yes, he spoke with him and discussed, but he was responsible to more than just his own destiny, the young Heir had explained.

Ten months into it Bobo finally decided that Black Badge didn't run Edwin at all. Edwin was calling the shots and playing Bobo for a damned fool.

The Revenants had been in near revolt. Edwin had downed too many of them. They wouldn't be driven from their home and outside the town, that much was conceded between them. Where Josiah had been more reasonable in the ones he took out - aiming for the worst of the worst and those that came after him and his family - Edwin lashed out at every creature whose eyes glowed red when confronted with Peacemaker. He was ambitious. He was dangerous. It was him or them, and it wouldn't be them.

Controlling a group of outlaws was difficult on a good day, but in the eleven months that Edwin Earp was Heir, Bobo nearly let it slip. He nearly let his love for Wyatt Earp - somehow lasting through the fires and all the betrayal he felt - end him dangling at the end of a noose same as Edwin. It was him or them, and he was their leader. Four of the Seven that had hunted down Josiah were still topside at that point. They rallied enough support from those that were left that if Bobo wanted to have any standing at the end of this, if he wanted to retain any control, he'd give the word to set them after Edwin and end this.

That damned promise rattled around in his head though. The same one he'd made himself when he'd first discovered that Constance Clootie had been right. He was a demon, but he'd hoped that that didn't mean he had to lose himself entirely to this curse. He had a deal with Edwin. They had shook on it, and a man's word was all he had.

He called a meeting with the ambitious Heir. Neutral ground, no weapons. That had been the deal. Bobo had met him in a field so that they could speak man to man. He had a wife, a son, people he cared about. There was plenty of leverage there, all he needed to do was apply the appropriate pressure. He'd always been good with words.

The shot had come from the hills just after he and Edwin had met. It wasn't from Peacemaker, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. The bullet dug deep, striking him in the upper back and pitching him forward with its force. Edwin had caught him, his grandfather's gun in his hand and it had glowed dangerously as he raised it. "I am doing this for my family," he had told Bobo.

There was a rage that came as part of the oh-so-lovely package deal of demondom. It burned as hot as hell's flames at times and could drive a Revenant to do terrible things. Bobo never let his get out of control. He was careful that way, but in that moment he'd reached out, his powers extended to grab ahold of Peacemaker and fling it to the side. The cries in the hills told him that Edwin's little sniper was being dispatched and Bobo leapt on the Heir himself, slamming him hard into the ground and he had felt the brand on his back burning.

Edwin looked like Wyatt. It was the eyes, he reckoned. Maybe in the lines around his mouth a bit too, but he didn't act like him.

Bobo's hands had closed around Edwin's throat and the Heir had clawed desperately at him, coughing and sputtering at the force applied. Those eyes so like Wyatt's had widened almost as if Bobo had somehow betrayed him. Funny. Edwin had been the one to ambush him. The Revenant had hoped to avoid this.

The Heir went still beneath him after a time and Bobo finally released him, sitting back and feeling the tug of the bullet wound in his back. It hurt, but it would heal. He had waved the approaching idiots off from the gun and told them to dispose of the body. What was left of the Seven strung up Edwin Earp and Levi photographed their prize.

"Well?"

Wynonna's voice cut through the memory like a blade and Bobo blinked hard, brought back to the present, finding the current Earp staring at him expectedly. "He shot me in the back so I had him strung up," Bobo said at last. It was mostly true. The girl didn't need details.

"You had him hanged?"

"He was dead long before he got the rope."

Wynonna loosed a breath. "Did my daddy know? That you killed his father?"

Bobo looked at her. "Do you think he would have worked with me if he did?"

"No," she answered slowly. "So why tell me?"

That was the question wasn't it? She wasn't like her father. No, Wynonna was much more Wyatt than she was Ward. She knew the stakes. She understood that they couldn't play by the rules Clootie had set if they really wanted to win.

He sighed. "Because despite what life's taught me… I trust you, Wynonna Earp."

Of all the answers he could have given, that was the one he hated the most. Mostly because it was true. He'd never learned his lesson that trusting an Earp could only cause him pain. Here he was all over again.

Bobo rocked forward, kicking the chair out and standing. Wynonna didn't say anything as he mumbled something about needing a smoke and to get him when they had the location Waverly and Jeremy were searching for, but he felt her gaze follow him until he rounded out of her line of sight.

* * *

Notes: Writing this I realized we've only had Five Heirs including Wynonna: Josiah, Edwin, Ward, Willa, and Wynonna. The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that Bobo had survived them all until Wynonna.


	24. Only in Purgatory

Summary: _When some idiot gets their hands on a spell that goes awry, temporarily cursing all of Purgatory with flu-like symptoms, not even the Revenants can escape it. Prompt fulfillment. #38: "Everyone Keeps telling me you're a bad guy"_

 **Only in Purgatory**

Purgatory was a quirky place on a good day, but at its worst the supernatural element that crept right along the surface could stir up all kinds of trouble. Even for the supernatural beings that lived there.

A spell had swept the town. It was flimsy, likely not unfolding exactly as the caster had intended, and seemed to be leaving no one unaffected, and that included the Revenant population. The poorly implemented spell - just as likely the result of some idiot kids that had given some words a go - had left the entire town ill. Fevers, nausea, the exhaustion… It had been so long since he had actually been sick that Bobo didn't remember that it could feel _this_ terrible. All he wanted to do was find some quiet place to curl up, sleep, and wait for it to pass, but there was one person he needed to check on before he did.

The trek out to the reservoir was torture and Bobo felt the world shift at least twice as he approached it, having to stop and brace himself on the trunk of the massive tree before even considering trying to climb up. He wasn't sure how far out the spell reached. These sorts of things were typically short lived when they happened, and often contained to the town itself, but there was no way to know. He wasn't going to leave Willa there alone to fend for herself. He just had to…

"Robert?"

The mistake was looking straight up to the little porch outside the treehouse that the voice had originated from. Everything shifted dangerously and Bobo tilted, finally doubling over, and he started coughing hard enough that he dropped to his knees. His entire body was trembling and Willa sounded like she was down a tunnel as she screamed his name. Well, at least it didn't seem like the effects of the spell had made it out this far. There was one silver lining to this shit show.

"Robert, what happened?" Willa demanded, making her way down the ladder in record time. He didn't dare look up, though. Instead he shifted, pressing his back against the tree and focused on breathing,eyes squeezed closed.

The future Heir knelt next to him, her hand pressed against his cheek and he leaned in. It was cool and comforting and as she pulled it away he cracked an eye open to find out why. She was just moving it, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. "You're burning up. Can you even get sick?"

"When someone casts a spell over Purgatory, apparently so," Bobo managed, his voice giving twice as he spoke. He cleared his throat, regretting it instantly as he started coughing again and doubled over where he sat.

"What sort of idiot casts a spell that makes the whole town sick?"

There was a beat or two as Bobo did his best to gauge if he could speak without sending himself into another fit. Finally he licked his lips and spoke slowly. "Someone that doesn't know… what they're doing. It happens. Too much. Idiot comes across a spell or a low level… demon and here we are. Should wear off soon."

Willa laughed, the sound soothing. "Only in Purgatory. Can you stand?"

"Yeah," he murmured and felt her hands on him to make sure he didn't topple as he slowly got to his feet. Somehow she coaxed him to the ladder and through sheer willpower managed to get him up without both of them ending up in a pile on the ground. He hadn't meant to come there to sleep, just to check on her, but when she guided him to the bed he fell into it without so much as a pause.

Willa worked quietly to ease him out of his coat and tug his boots off. He forced his heavy eyelids open to look up at her, mesmerized at the idea that someone gave a damn enough to watch after him. It wasn't something he was really used to in his life. He reached a hand up and she took it, bending to press a kiss to his forehead. "Get some sleep. I'll be right here," she promised.

Blue eyes slipped closed and there was no telling how long he slept for. He woke in fits and starts, alternating between wild dreams and coughing himself awake. At one point he woke, half frozen, to find that he'd thrown the blankets not only off of him, but off the bed as well. Willa looked up from her book and crossed the room to pull them back up and around him again.

The sun was low in the sky the next time he stirred. His head felt stuffy, the pressure making it difficult to work his thoughts through. The way it throbbed at near-migraine levels didn't help either.

"Hey there," a voice cut through and he blinked, his eyes focusing slowly on Willa. She was standing by the stove, a pot boiling and he gave it a skeptical look that made her frown. "You know, even I'm able to make soup from a can," she grumbled and the pulled a very thin smile from him. "How are You feeling?"

"Shitty," he rasped and shifted, feeling the way the fever caused every muscle to ache. The idea of trying to eat was already making his stomach turn uncomfortably.

Willa hummed as she gave the pot another stir and stepped away. He watched her move to a bowl and dunk a cloth into it, wringing out the excess water before laying it across his forehead. It felt cool and a soft sound left him as he tried to focus on that.

"When I was a kid Waverly - my youngest sister - got really sick and Mama did this to help bring down her fever. She had medicine too, but I-"

Bobo reached up, his touch on her wrist light and he drew her attention to him. "Thank you. It feels good."

She beamed at him and kissed his hand before moving back to her pot of soup. "You've taken care of me a time or two. About time I get a chance to return the favour. Someone needs to take care of you."

Bobo half choked on the laugh that escaped him. "Glad I'm sick?"

"No," she said slowly as she grabbed a bowl, emptying some of the soup into it. "Just… You do so much for me and I don't ever feel like I do anything to thank you for it."

"You do," he promised, watching the bowl she was preparing like it was a snake that might bite him. She was going to try to make him eat that. He forced himself to look at her, focus on her. "Willa, you do… more than you could know."

She tried for a smile and pulled a chair up next to the bed. "You want to give this a try?"

"No."

Her lips quirked up a little more. "You need to eat. For me?" she asked, the last words drenched in sweetness that he knew she knew would get her exactly what she wanted.

Bobo groaned as he forced himself up and leaned heavily against the headboard of her bed. He reached out for the bowl and she passed it over, her pale green eyes watching his every movement as he shoved the first spoonful in his mouth, hoping he could keep it down.

"You know, growing up, everyone kept telling me you were a bad guy. Well, Daddy did. He never mentioned you by name, but he used to get so frustrated… angry when he'd talk about you. He didn't know you at all, did he?"

"We had a professional relationship," Bobo answered carefully.

"Am I the first Earp since Wyatt to really know you? Not just the… show you put on for everyone, but you?"

He took another careful bite, surprised how good it did taste. "I 'spose you are."

His Willa smiled for him and he managed to get through half the bowl before his body threatened to rebel. She took it and he eased back down in the bed, turning on his side to try to sleep the rest of the sickness off. After a moment he felt the blankets being pulled back and Willa slipped in behind, her body close to his and he felt her press a kiss to his back. "This okay?"

"Don't want to get you sick," he mumbled, selfishly hoping she would choose to stay anyway.

"Guess you'll just have to take care of me then," she laughed softly and felt her move closer so that her forehead rested against his back. "Sleep well, Robert."

He wasn't sure if his response made any sense, but he made a small sound as sleep pulled him under, feeling more comfortable than he had since the spell had been cast.

* * *

notes: While this was to fulfill a prompt, it also came out of a conversation that marvinetta and I had the other day. Poor Bobo deserves to have someone watch out for him every once and a while.


	25. Who He Was

_Summary: Waverly just needs a little hope that her childhood friend wasn't completely a lie. Prompt #38: "Everyone keeps telling me you're a bad guy."_

 **Who He Was**

She hadn't told anyone where she was going. Not Wynonna, not Doc, and not even Nicole. They would have wanted to go with her. To protect her, but this was something she had to do alone. This was something she needed to face alone, and as those gates pulled open and she saw them watching her warily, she knew they wouldn't touch her.

 _No one harms the baby. My word. My law._

For those that were there in the trailer park, Bobo Del Rey's law still stood and they wouldn't risk his wrath by harming a hair on Waverly Earp's head.

She'd been there before and she thought she remembered there being more people. The humans must have left the park and between how many Revenants Wynonna had put down so far in her tenure as Heir and those that had fled to Bulshar's side, there weren't many of those left either. Fewer than she had assumed, at any rate, and while she knew Bobo had said that he'd bring as many to the fight against the demon that had cursed them all as he was able, the Call had taken many away.

"Lost, little Earp?" a voice asked and Waverly spun, wishing now that she'd brought her shotgun with her. No. She was there in peace. This one was just trying to spook her.

"I'm looking for Bobo."

"She's looking for Bobo," another Revenant chuckled, pulling Waverly's attention in the opposite direction. "You've got guts, Little Sister, coming here."

"That's enough."

Both Revenants shrank back at the deep, snarling voice and Waverly saw Bobo Del Rey rounding the corner, his eyes flashing red as he looked at them both. "Go."

One word was all it took and they ran, tripping over each other to get away. She watched red fade back to blue, the darkness around his eyes easing back to his natural pale, and there was something almost worn about his expression. Like he was being stretched in too many directions these days.

He turned those tired blue eyes on her. "I told Wynonna to be patient. Not in her vocabulary, is it?"

It took her a moment to realize what his immediate thought had been. It made sense. It wasn't like she'd gone out of her way to seek him out a great deal since he'd joined their side. "Wynonna didn't send me. I came to see you."

That startled him and his gaze shifted, sweeping the area. When those blue eyes came back to meet hers she saw him tilt his head, motioning to follow. She did, and as she had to quicken her own pace to keep up with his long stride a flash of memory broke loose to the front of her mind of a little girl skipping to keep up with her large, fur coat-clad friend that everyone else thought was imaginary. Her secret best friend.

Bobo led her to a trailer with a canopy stretched out from it, a foldout table and a couple of lawn chairs next to it. She saw maps of Purgatory and the surrounding area on the table, pencils lying next to them and it looked like he'd left his work very suddenly. He'd heard her voice and come running. Probably without even stopping to think about it with as quickly as he'd covered the space between the trailer and where she'd been.

"What's so important that it'd bring you here?" he asked, his voice gruff and irritable.

"Should I not be here?"

He quirked an off-colour eyebrow at her. "Ain't the smartest move you've ever made."

"They won't hurt me."

"What makes you so sure?"

"You won't let them."

His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something just behind it and he pushed a short breath out through his nose, bending back over his table and his maps.

Waverly waited a long moment before walking over to one of the chairs and taking a seat, sinking down lower than she had expected in it. Silence stretched between them and he seemed content enough to let it as he studied whatever it was that he was studying, her eyes fixed on him. "I've been… thinking a lot about my childhood recently. About you and me and our friendship and… exactly what that meant. You were one of the most important people in my life when I was little." He didn't look up, but he didn't tell her to shut up either. "You were this… giant that would chase away everything scary. Even though you never came to the house - I guess you couldn't, could you? - I used to think that you would come scare off any monsters under my bed. They wouldn't dare come for me because I was your angel and you would protect me." His scribbling had slowed, so she knew he heard her, even if he was doing his damndest not to respond. Waverly pursed her lips together. "Who are you really, Bobo?"

The pencil finally stopped and she saw him hunch just a little more. "You know what I am."

"I didn't say what. Who. _Who_ are you really? Wynonna told me what she saw in her vision quest. Robert Svane was a good man. He was friends with Wyatt Earp-"

"Keep your voice down," he growled.

"- and knowing you like I did as a kid, I can believe that now. I just… everyone tells me you're a bad guy. And you are, but you're not. Who are you really?"

Bobo sighed, straightening and running his hand through across his now white mohawk, smoothing the wild hair down a little, and Waverly waited as patiently as she could. Finally he set his pencil down, turned, and took a seat in the chair next to hers. "Fine," he said at last. "What do you wanna know?"

There it was. The opening she really needed. Waverly found herself smiling and she opened her mouth to let the first question tumble out, closing it again as she realized that she couldn't ask them all at once. She had to choose one. Should she start small and work her way up? That really depended on how many questions he gave her. If he got frustrated or bored he might cut the conversation short. She had to be careful. She had to choose wisely. "Why me?" Or just ask the one that burned the deepest. That worked too. "If you're not my father, why me?"

"I never said I was your father."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"You're kin."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're kin." He reached a hand up, his thumb working at the inside of the bridge of his nose. "It's not a simple question. Not a simple answer and… There are bigger things to focus on before I can tell you. You ain't a Revenant, if that's what you're scared of."

"I'm not scared." He snorted a laugh and she shot him a glare. "Fine. Why'd you stop coming to see me when Daddy died?"

She watched the very subtle changes in his expression and there was a hint of sadness there. "I was… trying to do right by you. Angels don't need to live in a demon's shadow."

Her lips curled just a little at the corners and she caught his gaze. "Has anyone ever told you that you're kinda a drama queen?"

"There's that judgy Waverly again," he teased, and there was something about it that felt right. That hint of a smile that made it to his eyes, the way his tone lightened. She remembered it. She had held onto it for a while, hoping that he'd come back for her. He'd told her once that he'd thought about saving her too. If he'd asked her then, she would have gone willingly. She would have lived out her childhood with her Bobo, hoisted up on his shoulders and sleeping curled up in his coat. She could have very easily have told him yes. She would have told him yes.

Waverly blinked, a tear slipping down her cheek and she sniffed hard. Another question. She needed another one that wasn't quite as close to home. Her thoughts about what he'd said in that treehouse led to the next one. "Willa. What was the deal there?"

"The deal?" he echoed.

"Did you love her?"

There was a long pause and he refused to meet her gaze. "Yeah."

"Did she love you?"

"Sometimes."

"How did that… work? You have to see how creepy that was, right? I mean, I get that _everyone's_ really young compared to you, but, I mean, you stole her away at thirteen."

"I didn't steal her anywhere. I saved her when the others wanted to do…" He stopped, his teeth clicking together and he looked like he was considering his phrasing. "Wanted to do terrible things," he finished slowly. "Everything else came later. On her terms. It was always on her terms."

Right up until the end, Waverly thought as she watched him. He looked so beaten down, so hurt, and she wondered if he'd heard the words Wynonna had told her that Willa had said. She'd left him to die. She'd been willing to leave him to die to get free. He had been collateral damage just like she and Wynonna had been.

She reached forward on impulse, her fingers touching the back of his hand and pulling his attention. "You put on a really good act, but I think they're wrong. You're not as bad of a guy as you want them to think."

He blinked and she could see the way his eyes glistened just a little, trying very hard to hide those emotions. It was dangerous for him to show them, surrounded by the other Revenants like they were. These demons that he had to earn the respect of to make sure they didn't desert them all for Bulshar.

Waverly gave his hand a quick squeeze before releasing it. "It's okay. Your secret's safe with me. I won't tell."

Bobo huffed and stood, gathering up his maps and rolling them. "C'mon."

"Are those the coordinates that Jeremy's been waiting on?"

"Who?"

"Jeremy. You know, about this tall, totally geeky in all the best ways? Used to work for BBD."

"Oh. Junior."

"You didn't know his name, did you?"

He shrugged, the glint of a smile back, and Waverly rolled her eyes theatrically as she followed him towards the gate. Things weren't going to somehow return to the magic, woodland princess fairy tale games of her childhood, but there was a chance they could find something new. He'd been her dearest friend once, then gone, and then her enemy. Sometimes things came around full circle. They took time, but she'd gotten what she had come there for. Hope. Hope that he hadn't used her and hope that he wasn't lying to them now. Hope that the man that Wynonna had met in her vision quest was the same one that had pulled her out of the icy waters as a little girl. Hope that she could know who he was, not just what he was.

* * *

Notes: I've been having trouble with a Bobo and Doc fic I'm working on, so I decided to dabble in some Bobo and Waverly feels. That always seems to help.


	26. Nothing Less

_Summary: How could he have ever forgotten the face of the angel that was with him when he died? Prompt #_  
 _76: "You need to wake up because I can't do this without you."_

 **Nothing Less**

He was coming back around in stages. It felt like he was struggling up through deep, dark waters, desperate to break the surface, but unsure if he ever would. His mind was flickering, grabbing at images and clips from death and life.

 _Remember_ ….

Darkness and shadows played at his memory. A night long ago that was half burned away by hell's flames. He tried to focus on it. Tried to see the face of the figure there. The bell was tolling and he felt the rope in his own hand. That was right. He had had to wake her up. A strange request, but his angel had made it, and who was he to deny her?

 _Remember how much…._

He could see her sitting there in the distorted memory and she hardly looked like an angel bent over and coughing. Dying. Like him. The thought brought about a fresh wave of pain and Robert felt himself shift, knee hitting the old wood floor, but the pain wasn't coming from the bullet wound that had killed him. No, this was more widespread and it _burned_. Like hell's fires it burned. He grimaced, the thought pulling him a little closer to breaking that surface of consciousness. But he couldn't. Not yet. It had been so long since he'd seen his Angel's face in this place, bent over him. Had Waverly smiled for him? Mourned for him? He'd been a good man. She must have known that then, even if she didn't remember it now. He wanted to see that one more time before he let the memory loose.

 _Remember how much you loved….._

Robert struggled up, stepping towards her and drawing her attention. This wasn't real, or maybe it was. It was so hard to tell. "Angel," he called quietly. "Waverly."

But it wasn't Waverly that looked up. A pair of blue eyes so like Wyatt's met his and Robert froze as his Angel, though not the one he suspected, looked up at him. "Remember how much you loved Wyatt Earp," she told him.

"I do," he whispered, the words riding out on a breath.

"You don't. You forgot… you took Bulshar's side and betrayed him. You betrayed Waverly and you betrayed me."

"No," he argued, but he could already feel himself being pulled away. Waking up. "I remembered, 's why..." He bit back a cry, the pain racing through him. "That's why it hurts. I remembered. I fought him."

He was on the floor again, his strength sapped, and Wynonna - though it really was, was it? - stood in front of him. She lifted his chin so he was looking up at her from his knees. "Good. And now I need you to wake up. We can't do this without you."

The church disappeared as Bobo opened his eyes. In truth it hadn't been there at all. It had been a dream of a memory, helping him to work through what had happened. He'd been with Bulshar, standing against the Heir and his Angel, the Call from the demon too strong for him. But then Clootie had gathered power to himself, ready to deal a blow that would have left a fragile human in broken pieces. Wynonna hadn't budged though. She had stood there with Peacemaker gripped and leveled, ready to die if that what it took.

In that moment he'd remembered Wyatt and it had been enough.

Bobo groaned, shifting and instantly regretting it. Everything hurt. The blow had hit him square in the chest as he'd put himself between the demon and the Heir.

"Uh, Wynonna? He's waking up."

Blue eyes shifted to find a pair of large, dark eyes watching him warily. The kid with the plastic gun and the metal in his body. He looked nervous when he realized the Revenant had noticed him and stepped back.

"'Bout time," Wynonna Earp grumbled as she moved over. "Hey, asshole. Have a nice nap?"

Bobo loosed a low, pained growl and glared at her a little. That seemed to be enough to pull a smirk from her. He looked around, finally taking note that he was stretched out on a cot, a blanket draped over him and his feet were cold. He was in the basement of Shorty's. He knew the room well.

Wynonna pressed the back of her hand against his forehead, startling him back around to her, and with the way she leaned over him now, he wondered how he could have ever forgotten that face. He thought he'd almost remember once. During the spell when it had tried to warp him against his decision to help Waverly. It had reminded him that without Wynonna the promise to protect Waverly had never happened. He remembered now trying to piece together what that had meant and finally choosing to focus on the task that had been at hand.

But Wynonna had been the one in the church. He was sure of it now. She wasn't an angel, not really, but in a way she had saved him that night. She'd given him something to hold onto, to protect. To hope for.

"You've been fighting a fever," she explained. "Seems to be breaking, but you should probably take it easy. Not sure how fast you heal."

"From that? No telling," he managed.

She hummed softly. "I guess I owe you a thank you. I don't think I would have survived that."

"You wouldn't've."

"Why'd you do it?"

He let his eyes slip closed as he loosed a breath, the words stirring. "I remember how much I loved Wyatt Earp," he confessed softly, and as he looked up he saw the startled expression on her face. She knew that he knew.

"Hey, is he awake?" Waverly's voice came drifting in along with the sound of her boots on the wooden stairs.

"Angel," Bobo managed as he locked eyes with her, the old pet name riding out and very much directed at the Heir's younger sister. He'd offered her to Bulshar. She was never going to forgive that.

Wynonna, for her part, seemed to relax at him reaction to the younger Earp. "Yeah. Took him long enough," she popped off with amusement highlighting her voice.

"So now what?" Waverly asked.

"I guess that's up to Bobo, but I'm not sure Bulshar will take you back after that stunt."

Bobo growled lowly at the name. "It was enough to break the hold."

"And?" Wynonna pressed.

Blue eyes flickered up. "And?" he echoed. "We ain't friends, Earp. You and I know that."

"But we could be allies. If you're willing."

"You trust me for that?"

"I think that was a pretty big gesture to start some trust. We're going to put Clootie down once and for all. If you want to help us with that…"

"That's all I want," he answered, voice rough. She wasn't going to say it. Not here, but the Wynonna in his dream had had a point: they needed him for this. He'd waited so long for an Heir he thought could do be the one to finally align with and finish this, and there she stood. Wynonna Earp. Damn her. He never was going to learn his lesson about trusting Earps.

Bobo shifted, slowly sitting up and swinging his long legs over the side of the cot. Standing was painful, but no one tried to stop him, and he finally got his bare feet under him and stood. He was unsteady, but he was standing as he extended his hand. "If you're willing to end what Wyatt and I started, I'll help you do it."

She stared at his hand for a long moment before stepping forward and taking it. "Welcome to the team, Bobo." She flashed a dangerous smile. "Screw us and I'll send you back to hell faster than you can blink, got it?"

His own lips stretched at the corners as they shook. "I'd expect nothing less."

* * *

Notes: I've been wanting to work on one for a while in which Bobo remembered it was Wynonna, not Waverly that sat with him as he died and that gave him him the name that he chose to go by as a Revenant. One of my prompts requested it specifically as well, so I've been trying to find that path and how I feel about it. I had some sort of Bobo-themed dream right before waking up this morning (still can't recall exactly what it was) and started thinking about it. I grabbed my phone and wrote most of this before climbing out of bed lol.


	27. Trust, Need, or Wyatt's Own Ghost

_Summary: Future fic. The last thing they can afford is for Bulshar to get his hands on Peacemaker.  
_

 **Trust, Need, or Wyatt's Own Ghost**

It had gone from bad to worse faster than they could blink. Fighting - and winning - against Bulshar was not a task to be taken on lightly. It took determination and planning. Not just one plan, but contingency after contingency to make sure they were ready for anything. Not that even that worked sometimes. Not when Wynonna Earp was at the center of it all. The woman was a living, breathing chaos magnet and, if he didn't know better, _more_ stubborn than her great great granddaddy.

Right then it didn't matter. Not who was to blame or who should have listened to whom. It didn't matter what the plan might have been. It was all blown to shit anyway. They just needed to focus on getting out alive and preferably in one piece, which was looking less and less likely.

Bobo had gathered some of the Revenants to him, relying on old loyalties and fears instilled over the last nearly ninety years. It hadn't been enough to counter Bulshar's call for all of them, though, and those that had called him master had been given more power in exchange for losing even more of themselves than they already had. They were all bloodlust and madness, and while that made it easier to out maneuver in the long run, facing them head on was like facing a rabid beast.

If it had just been him it would have been one thing. He'd heal. Hell, if it had just been he and Wynonna he thought it would have been easy enough, but Waverly and Jeremy had been with them. Waverly was a deadly aim with a shotgun, but it only put them down so long and Junior over there was still getting tossed back on his ass every time he got a shot off.

Bobo loosed a dangerous snarl as he yanked one of the red-eyed Revenants back before he jumped the downed scientist. There was a brief flash of fear that made it through Bulshar's control as the Revenant leader slammed him hard into the ground, picking up a boulder with his powers and dropping it on the howling demon. "Stay."

"He was, uh… Thanks," Jeremy managed and Bobo shot him a half irritated look, ready to grumble at him - he couldn't have the kid think he was going soft in him, after all - when he heard Waverly shout her sister's name, drawing his attention away.

If things had already gone from bad to worse to shit, this was whatever followed that. Fear wasn't something Bobo was accustomed to very often anymore. When you couldn't be killed, there wasn't much that scared you, but seeing the Heir laid out, a hard blow taking her from her feet and Peacemaker lying closer to Clootie than Wynonna was certainly cause for concern.

Everyone had frozen where they were, terror sweeping through the little field they stood in, almost tangible from Waverly and Jeremy, and Bobo briefly wondered if his own fear was that evident. It didn't matter. All that mattered was keeping Wyatt's gun out of Clootie's hand.

He reached out and pulled. He'd called the gun to him before. It took considerably more effort than moving anything else of that size usually did. It was Peacemaker. Wyatt's gun that had killed him and the only thing that could send him to hell. He had held it more than any other Revenant, he would wager, and certainly longer before it decided to burn him. Now, though, he just needed to keep it away from their enemy.

Metal and wood flew through the air, fitting into his hand and Bulshar turned burning eyes on him. For half a moment the whole world slowed to a stop. Clootie and Robert stared at each other, Wyatt's gun between them, and Bulshar's lips twisted into a terrible, snarling smile as he lunged towards him.

It had been a long time since Bobo had had much use for guns and this one was more useless than others to him, but the impulse to protect oneself overrides conscious, logical thought at times. He leveled it, his mind recalling every lesson Wyatt had ever given him with that very gun. In that moment he could almost feel his old friend's hand moving to reposition his grip, his patient voice instructing him how to take the shot.

He hadn't expected anything when his finger squeezing the trigger. Just the click of it jamming on him. Maybe even the gun burning him. It was a fickle thing, after all, and Bobo Del Rey had not only dared to hold the Heir's gun, but to take the shot. The fact that it fired, the bullet riding out through the long barrel, the kick startling him enough to have to adjust his stance so he could remain on his feet, surprised both him and the creature rushing him.

Robert Svane had never been a great shot in his day, and the years hadn't made him any better. It clipped Clootie, but the fact that it had fired at all was enough to silence everyone in its wake. Bobo stood there for a long moment, still staring down the barrel of the gun aimed at his enemy, and Bulshar snarled at him as the Revenants that had been attacking the Earps, Jeremy, and Bobo started to ease back and away from them. "This isn't over, Robert."

"Didn't think it was," he answered, his voice much steadier than he would have anticipated.

Bulshar's Revenants started their retreat in earnest, turning and fleeing the scene. They knew what was _supposed_ to happen when he touched it and had seen what had happened. Let them be terrified. Maybe they'd think twice before attacking them out of nowhere like they had. He finally let his arm drop, loosing a shaky breath as the last of them slipped away.

"Holy _shit_!" Wynonna half-yelped from her place back on her feet. "Did you just…? Holy shit."

Bobo flipped the gun around to hand it to her hand-first lest the thing start burning him.

The Heir took it, eyeing it suspiciously before turning her gaze on the Revenant. "How did you do that?"

He shrugged noncommittally.

"You shouldn't even be able to hold it, right?" Jeremy asked, excitement causing the words to tumble out a little faster than usual. Oh great. He had a new little mystery to solve. Bobo wasn't sure how he felt about being the center of it. There was plenty that most of them didn't know about him and he had no interest putting _everything_ on the table. He snarled irritably as Jeremy tried to check the palm of his hand for signs of a burn. Even if he'd gotten ahold of him, he wouldn't have found any wounds there. The pistol hadn't even sizzled.

"It must have something to do with your connection to Wyatt," Waverly mused and Bobo shot her a look.

"You know, I've never heard that whole story. What-?"

He didn't let Jeremy finish as a deep growl escaped him and he turned to start back towards town, hearing the scientist's protests behind him. He kept his gaze fixed ahead even as Waverly jogged to catch up to his long stride. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

"Woulda been better if it had been a shot that did something," he groused. Neither he nor Clootie had been expecting the shot to work and that was the only reason that the more powerful demon hadn't deflected it. If his aim had been better, maybe all of this would have been done and over with that afternoon.

Waverly's expression was still impressed. "You shot _Peacemaker_. I'd say that's something." He grunted a response and she nudged him hard in the side. "Maybe Wyatt hasn't really abandoned you after all?"

His step faltered just a little and he loosed the frustrated breath through his nose so he wouldn't snap at her that Wyatt Earp had had nothing to do with what happened that day. He'd been dead and in the ground for nearly a century, and if she thought some fluke in the curse… Blue eyes closed and he forced the admittedly irrational anger down. It wasn't Waverly's fault, and she had just decided to give trusting him a chance. The last thing he wanted to do was let his temper get in the way and spook her.

She had always been an intuitive girl though. "Or maybe you've just got the trust of the current Earps," she said slyly.

Bobo opened his mouth and then closed it, his teeth clicking together and a low chuckle finally escaping. "Maybe so."

She beamed at him and motioned back to where her sister was looking at Peacemaker like she wasn't sure it was the real thing or not. "If nothing else, you've really freaked Wynonna out."

His lips twitched upward. He did enjoy riling the Heir whenever time permitted. They watched her as she grumbled about how just anyone must be able to shoot her gun if Bobo was able to now, and Jeremy was rattling off possible explanations from what he knew about the curse and precedent that he'd seen in other curses that Black Badge had run across over the years. Waverly choked back a giggle that earned a glare of irritation from her sister and a playful wink from Bobo once Wynonna had gone back to her grumbling.

For the near disaster they'd faced, somehow the aftermath was more peaceful than he could have imagined. It had been odd, and once the Earp sisters let it drop it would change nothing for them, but for the Revenants that had chosen to side with Bulshar it would remind them why they should be afraid of their former boss. He was different than them. He always had been, even if they didn't know why. If the shot had gone off because of trust or need or Wyatt's own ghost, Bobo couldn't be sure, but it had, and even if he could never replicate the action, they'd remember it, and that fear and uncertainty wouldn't do Clootie any favours.

* * *

Notes: I've been very amused with the idea of Bobo accidentally shooting Peacemaker recently, so I finally worked it out into a story. Peacemaker seems to be able to choose to a degree. It allowed Wynonna to shoot it at 12, even though it should have jammed. It seemed to have trouble deciding between Wynonna and Willa when they were both of age and Willa came back, and it also allowed Waverly to shoot it to protect Wynonna. I love the idea that either Wyatt's faith in him or maybe even Wynonna's would allow him to take the shot in a desperate moment. That Wyatt saw Robert as family when they were both alive and human.


	28. For Wyatt

_Summary: Future fic. Because it's always a great idea to lock two men that hate each other into a confined space with a lot of whiskey at their disposal. Prompt #27:_  
 _"I'm not going to apologize for this. Not anymore."_

 _Warning: A bit stronger cursing than I usually include in my fics. It's Bobo and Doc angry and after copious amounts of whiskey._

 **For Wyatt**

Shorty's was closed down tight and mostly deserted, save the two men that leaned on either side of the bar desperately trying to avoid eye contact like two scolded children that had been sent to their room and told not to come out until they had made peace. They each had a glass of whiskey in front of them, a bottle that had started partly empty set halfway between, and Bobo estimated they'd been there for somewhere just over an hour in complete, stubborn silence. It wasn't like either of them could leave really. Wynonna might not kill them, but she had made it clear that she would bring the pain. For some reason she was damned determined that this feud - one that was rooted in events that had happened over a century before - ended that night. She didn't seem to get that wanting it and getting it were two very different things. All Bobo and John Henry were going to do was make a sizable dent in the saloon's whiskey stores until one of them passed out or they came to blows again, whichever came first. Bobo's bet was on the latter with the tension hanging in the air

Bobo finished the glass he was working on and reached to pour another.

"Dare I ask if you actually plan on paying for what you drink tonight?" Holliday groused, his voice steadier than it should have been for the amount of whiskey he had been drinking that evening. Granted, Bobo thought he might have had a bit more, but his system ran differently than a human's. He wasn't going to drop dead of alcohol poisoning. Now there was an idea. Surely Wynonna knew her lover well enough to know if he drank himself to death it wouldn't be any fault of Bobo's.

Clear blue eyes flickered up to meet a set of a different shade. "Considering I never saw a dime from you when you took over my bar, I'd say I'm owed."

"I reckon you lose your rights to a place when you die."

"Then I 'spose it's back up for grabs." Blue eyes flashed red and his smile was anything but friendly as he watched John Henry twitch just a little at the reminder of his own recent trip down south. Good. Let the little bastard squirm. At least he could get a little entertainment if he had to be trapped there with him.

Holliday pushed a breath out through his nose and refilled his own glass, taking a long sip from it. Bobo watched him carefully. He was feeling the buzz around his own mind that signaled the alcohol starting to affect him, and no matter how accustomed good ol' Hank was, even his tolerance couldn't match a Revenant's, so he must have been feeling it by now. The silence wouldn't last, and while Wynonna had warned them not to start a brawl in the middle of the bar, restraint only reached so far when hate ran as deeply as it did between them. It might even do them some good to get it out of their system for a little while longer.

"I did wonder," Hank started, his usual drawl just a little more pronounced, "just what the hell Wyatt ever saw in you all those years ago. A pup following at his heels, maybe, but a dog's at least loyal." He chuckled at his own insinuation, the only one finding any humour in it. "But you," he said, his tone suddenly darker as he looked back up, catching and holding Bobo's gaze, "only look out for one person, and it ain't Wyatt."

"Hard to look after someone's been dead and in the ground nearly a century, ain't it?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

Bobo loosed a breath, keeping a careful lid on a temper ready to boil. That's what had gotten them in this mess. Doc had popped off one too many times and Bobo had finally snapped forward and wrapped his fingers around the other man's throat, lifting him from the ground. They hadn't gotten any further than that as Waverly had come barreling in, shouting and panicking and Bobo had dropped the gunslinger immediately, neither moving an inch at each other with Waverly Earp standing between them and barking at them over their behavior. Then Wynonna had stepped in and here they were. In time out.

That didn't mean that Bobo didn't want to snap his neck any less now than he did earlier, or at least land a hard enough blow to knock that smug expression he always wore off his face.

"Oh, Hank," he murmured, letting amusement colour his voice, "you can act all high and mighty, but you're not so loyal yourself. Only when it suits you."

"Least I didn't side with the creatures that he put down. The ones hellbent on endin' his very line."

"Oh didn't you? Musta been someone else lurking around the park wearing your face and using your name that came to me for help in finding the Stone Witch," Bobo answered, flashing teeth in a dangerous smile. "Don't pretend you and I are so different."

Holliday snorted. "You knew where she was."

A chuckle escaped Bobo. "Long game, was it?" he asked, looking over his glass as he spoke. Drunk or not, Hank was typically quick enough when it came to reading between the lines.

The other man snorted, picking up his glass and starting around the bar to the other side as he spoke. "You really expect me to believe that's what all this has been for you?"

Bobo let the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he leaned in the counter. "I've been here, Hank. Through every year. Through every chaotic moment since Wyatt died and we woke up in this shithole. Through every Heir. Josiah knew me when he arrived in a Purgatory. Edwin and I met often to try to find a balance even during his killing spree that decimated everything his father and I had done. Ward and I were damn close to ending the curse when Wynonna shot him in the back. Each one, every damn one, _I_ have been here trying to make sure things didn't go more to hell than they already were, even if I was in the filth with them. The filth Wyatt left us in. What good would you have been?" He motioned as he spoke, and he saw Doc's mustache move as his lips twitched beneath it, pausing a few paces away from him.

"You know damn well where I was, Bobo Del Rey. _You_ left me there."

"No, no, no," Bobo chided as he turned to lean back against the bar. "That's not what I asked. There's a reason you were at the bottom of that well, _Doc_." Wyatt's nickname for the man left his lips like a curse. "We saw just what Purgatory would have been had you had your chance."

"I did everything I could do to reverse that damned spell," Holliday snapped defensively.

"We _all_ did. Even me, the demon you do love to hate." Bobo pulled in a deep, steadying breath, straightening to his full height. He wanted a fight if he were honest. He wanted to finish what they'd started and he was getting tired of fighting that impulse. It burned as deeply as hell's fire that were etched into his back. "You wanna know what Wyatt saw in me? Unlike his dear, drunk friend John Henry, I was - and _am_ \- a strategist. I know what a long game is and how to play it to get the best results at the end. You -" he let his gaze drift, his voice taking on a bored sort of tone - "flail around and shoot at anything that moves, hoping you hit an enemy and not a friend."

His gaze shifted sharply and they stood glowering at each other for a long moment before Doc pulled a pistol - looked like Wynonna hadn't gathered all of them - almost quicker than even Bobo's demon eyes could follow and it was steady in his hand. "And what are you, Bobo? Friend-" his thumb rested on the hammer of the pistol, ready to pull it back - "or enemy?"

Bobo tilted his head. It was amazing how often he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. There was the immediate rush, deep and born of having been mortal and having died that way, but then he always remembered, usually before his expression changed at all, that unless it was an Heir and the gun was Wyatt's, the pain would pass. He flashed a dangerous smile. "You take that shot, Holliday, and you're going to find out exactly how it would have ended earlier if Waverly hadn't come in."

"You and I've gone head to head, Bobo. I don't need a firearm to knock you flat on your ass."

"You found me at a disadvantage that day. Clootie'd already had a go."

Hank smirked. "You've got a lot of excuses." He tossed his gun into his free hand, pulling back to take a swing with his right, but Bobo caught it before it landed, and there was a flash of realization in those wide blue eyes that Doc might have just misjudged the Revenant while at full strength.

Bobo echoed the smirk that was now fading and didn't let go as he swung around with his other fist, landing a hard hit to the other man's jaw and sending him stumbling back. "You think I never learned to fight? Nearly ninety years here. I learned how to protect myself."

Doc staggered, but as he looked back around his grin was more excitable than any man's should have been. Looked like he wanted a fight just as badly as Bobo did.

The newly mortal man rushed the Revenant, slamming into him, using his weight to send him push him back. Bobo widened his stance, trying to catch himself before Holliday took him off his feet and sent them both tumbling to the floor. He managed, just barely and shoved him hard back, ducking the next blow. He flashed a dangerous grin and snarled as he leapt forward, feeling a rush that came with just letting himself loose. He was so tightly coiled with so much rested on his shoulders, but right there, right then, as long as he didn't kill the man, it didn't matter. He could pummel Doc Holliday into the ground. The asshole had taken the first swing.

They exchanged blows. Holliday must have had a few fights to his name while thoroughly intoxicated in his day. It was like breathing for him and that meant he could keep up. Bobo was quicker than he seemed to expect, and certainly more aware of his surroundings. He didn't often come to blows with people, though, even if he was fully capable, and it was a misread that landed him a hard blow that sent him slamming hard into the wall.

He shook his head hard, wiping the back of his hand across his nose and finding a smear of brown, Revenant blood on it. He frowned just a little at it. "You think I betrayed Wyatt," he snarled, feeling his eyes flash red, his vision tinged in the same shade. "I've given everything for him and been fucked for it. He's gone, dead and at peace, and here we are. Cleaning up his _shit_. Don't tell me you don't see that. Don't tell me that you don't understand that none of this-"

Holliday slammed him hard, hands on his shoulders - a brief flash to the last time that this had happen and the pain that exploded as the spikes had ripped through his chest sparking across his memory - and he felt his head connect with the wall behind him hard enough to make his vision swim, but at least it kept him from falling into the recent past. "You think I blame Wyatt for what happened?" he demanded, leaning in towards Bobo's face. "For my trip to hell? For being stuck in the well? No. He would've had me stay away from all of that. He'd've had me keep my _soul_. _I_ chose to give it to the Witch for what I thought was immortality. I…" He released Bobo, but the Revenant stayed where he was. There was something in the dejection in the other man's voice that held him where he there, watching carefully with his jaw clenched tightly and ready to continue the brawl if that's where it turned next. He slouched back, and Holliday finally pivoted around, leaning against the wall next to him when Bobo realized he wasn't going to continue the boxing match.

Blueeyes squeezed closed and John Henry swallowed hard. "No. Wyatt would have had me stay away from it all. He hated me for it in the end. He came to me, and then he left… like I'd cursed him myself."

It was strange what drink could make a man confess. Of all the things Bobo had known about the situation, the fact that Wyatt had found Doc and left him in a rage wasn't one of them. Even so, he hadn't come back to Robert. Even angry as he was he'd gone off looking for Doc Holliday again rather than face his dying friend. Bobo loosed a breath, letting his head thump lightly on the wall behind him, and a low growl escaped.

Holliday snorted next to him. "I remember you, you know. Oh, not when I first ran across you in the trailer park. You'd changed too much for that -" Bobo managed a rough chuckle at that one - "but then I heard your name. Robert Svane. I remembered the little mouse bringin' word from Wyatt. I met you… twice? Maybe. Ain't no more than that, even I know. Exactly what is it that you hate me for at any rate?"

Bobo let his gaze slide over. Somewhere in the rush of the fight John Henry had holstered his weapon and lost his hat. He looked strangely small standing there with his shoulders slumped forward and a dejected look drawing at his face. The man that Wyatt had alway loved more dearly, the one that Robert never could quite match up to looked more beaten down right then than Bobo had ever seen him, and it had nothing to do with the bruises already starting to form on his face.

"Well? Least give me that," Holliday grumbled, voice a little slurred.

Bobo snarled deeply, the whiskey still working through his system and loosening his tongue. "You," he growled, "talk about how I betrayed him, but you couldn't be bothered to ride with him. I was there. I stood by him, and this is what I get for it. You may be mortal now, Holliday, but you're right. You brought your own damnation down on your head. You left him without the backup he wanted - that he _needed_ \- to drink and gamble your last days away. I _died_ to make sure he got out of it alive and look which one of us walks free without having to claw and scrape for every choice." He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "I was wrong. Wyatt didn't screw you over. You did that one all on your own." Holliday always had gotten it all, deserved or not, while Robert always drew the short end, deserved or not. Wynonna had told him once that everything might have been different if he'd chosen to save Doc from the well, but in reality, it would have been different if Doc had manned up and shown up where he was needed.

"And you've done nothing to deserve what you got, is that it?" Holliday groused.

"I was a good man before all this." Was. He _was_ a good man. He hadn't been able to claim that in so long now. A mirthless chuckle escaped him at the thought. "But what can I say? Hell burns it right outa ya."

A silence fell over them and Hank huffed next to him after a stretch. "Do you really hate him that much?"

"No." The confession slipped from his lips before he could stop it and Bobo slid down the wall into a crouched position, blue gaze fixed straight ahead. He wanted to. The curse that Wyatt had gotten him caught up in compelled him to. It ate at his mind and whatever was left of his charred soul. It pushed and beckoned him to chase down every Heir, to end Wyatt's line.

 _You're gonna be a demon, Robert._

Constance's words from so many years ago still sent chills up his spine. He had, but he would truly be damned if he let it take _everything_ from him that had made him him.

He let his eyes slip closed. "He went back for you. I laid dying and you were the only one on his mind. No, John Henry, I don't hate Wyatt. Though I do hate you."

Doc swallowed hard and Bobo didn't dare look at him. The fresh wave of pain might push him over the edge to truly killing the man, and he couldn't do that. He needed the alliance with Wynonna to hold so they could defeat Bulshar.

Holliday pushed himself off the wall and Bobo saw him stalk towards the bar without a word, grabbing the whiskey bottle and their glasses without a word. He walked back and handed Bobo his glass before taking a seat next to him, topping off both glasses and holding his own out. "For Wyatt."

Bobo stared at him for a long moment, uncertain.

"I wasn't there to help him then, but I'm not goin' anywhere now. I'm all in with this." Doc chuckled roughly. "You and I ain't ever going to be friends, Bobo, but he knew that. Had to. That don't mean we can't find a way to work together."

A truce. That was what he was going for. Bobo watched the glass for a long moment before sighing deeply, clinking his own to it. "For Wyatt."

They drank, the truce set.

The gunslinger pushed a long breath out his nose. "Just don't expect me to apologize for hitting you again."

"You ain't apologized once," Bobo answered, but his lips perked up as he looked at the damage they'd done. Chairs tipped over, one broken, and tables had been pushed aside. They'd done a number on it, and if he were honest, he did feel better. Less frustrated, even if the gnawing pain that the truth had left him with would remain for a time yet.

"Well there you have it," Holliday chuckled, drinking from his glass.

They sat in silence then, the whiskey between them and a promise to work together in the name of the man they'd both cared for. They still hated each other, that hadn't changed, but there were bigger things.

* * *

Notes: I had so much trouble with this one and I blame how stubborn these two are. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it, but honestly I could probably work on it for weeks and it would still give me trouble. So here's hoping it's not as much of a hot mess as I feel like it is O.o


	29. Worse for Wear

**In Good Hands  
**

Summary: Bobo and Nicole have a few rare moments at an injured Waverly's bedside. Future fic. Prompt: "You should really get some rest" for Bobo

* * *

The room was quiet save for the sound the old chair made every time he shifted his weight, trying to get as comfortable as he could following the painful fight they'd only barely made it out alive from. Not one of them had escaped unscathed, but one in particular had taken a hard hit that drew him to the room.

Bobo grimaced as his gaze fell on Waverly Earp, lying on her own bed and sleeping fitfully as if she were still fighting the demons that couldn't come after them where they were. Every muscle in him seemed to ache, but not nearly as badly as the regret that gnawed at him over the gruff words he had exchanged with his angel just before the attack. He hadn't meant them, not really. His patience was always worn thin these days as his attention was needed in so many places and he was expected to play nice with people with whom no love was shared. Her expression had been enough to set the guilt in deep, but he hadn't had a chance to apologize before all hell had broken loose. Then she'd taken a hard hit, and it was everything he could do to get to her. To protect her. He just wanted to protect her. He had, but damage had already been done.

Nimble fingers played idly with one of the many rings he wore, the talisman that they had woven into it allowing him to step onto the Homestead when no other Revenant could. He focused on that, zeroing his mind in on the way it irritated his skin beneath it. He couldn't take it off though, or he'd be thrown from the property no matter if he was in the house or not. He wanted to be there when she woke up. He needed to apologize. She had just started trusting him again and he didn't want to risk that.

"Bobo?"

He blinked, startled out his thoughts by the whisper behind him. He found Nicole hovering hesitantly at the door, her hair still wet from the shower that had given him the chance to sit alone with Waverly for a little while. "I… didn't realize you'd come in here. How's she doing?"

"Sleeping," he grunted.

Her gaze landed on Waverly, and a small smile tilted the redheaded woman's lips to replace the grimace she'd been wearing since Bobo had turn to look at her. "She's tough. She'll be alright."

"Yeah."

She stepped further in and he could feel her gaze shift back to him as she came towards the bed. They hadn't had a lot of interaction, even after he'd joined sides with Wynonna Earp. If he were to place his bet, Bobo would have wagered that Nicole didn't trust him. She hadn't said it openly, but he'd been distrusted by enough people and for long enough to know that look. It was the one that lingered, like they thought that if they could just catch him unaware that they'd see through his lies that they were so certain he was telling. He wasn't sure if she spoke to Waverly about those suspicions or was just waiting to see if they held any merit, but either way they had done very well to avoid each other for the most part. Right up until now.

Bobo rose to offer her the seat, his movements slow and more than a little stiff to offer her the seat.

"How are you doing? You, uh…. you took a pretty hard hit too." Her voice was hesitant, like she wasn't quite sure what to say to him and she remained standing, favouring her left ankle.

"I'll heal," Bobo grunted as he took a seat on the floor, leaning back against the bedside table. Part of him knew he should give Nicole time with her, give them both some privacy, but the selfish part of him wanted to be there when she woke. He was a demon, after all. He had to give into a few selfish desires every now and then.

Nicole finally seemed take the hint that he wasn't going to reclaim the chair and she mumbled a thank you as she sat. "You know… Waves really wants to trust you. She's just a good person like that. I just…." She closed her eyes a moment. Here it was. He supposed it was better to get it over with. "I just hope she's right. You've already hurt her. If you-"

"If I what?" he growled lowly, partially not to wake the sleeping Earp. "What will you do to me?"

"Not everything is a threat, you know," she snapped lowly. "I just hope you won't. Waves doesn't deserve to be hurt, by you or anyone else. She cares about you."

Bobo's expression softened and he loosed a long breath. "I care about her too," he murmured.

"Good." She sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "You should probably get some rest. Fast healing or not, you got hit hard protecting her."

"I'd like to wait." He risked a glance up and maybe a little honesty with the woman his angel loved wouldn't kill him. "I owe her an apology."

"You were kind of an ass," she said with a small smile.

He snorted and Waverly stirred in the bed. "Hey you," she greeted Nicole.

"Hey," the redhead offered as she reached out, squeezing Waverly's hand. "Someone's been waiting for you."

The acknowledgment hadn't been expected and Bobo straightened, wincing as he did, but all that was immediately forgotten when she smiled for him. "Bobo."

"Hey, Angel," he murmured. "How ya feelin'?"

"Groggy."

"Mm."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He stood slowly from his crouched position, swallowing hard, and she reached for his hand. He took it. "What I said…" He paused, finding it difficult to get out. He'd spent so long hardening himself against everything and everyone that to pull back now was more difficult than even he'd expected. He purses his lips and Waverly squeezed his hand.

"Kinda got the apology when he got between that Revenant and me," she murmured, looking like she might be drifting back to sleep already.

He tried for a smile. She wasn't angry at him. It was more than he'd hoped for.

The Revenant perked as he heard the front door opening downstairs, Wynonna returning with Holliday and Dolls from where they'd gone after some of the demons that had attacked them. "Get some rest," he offered and released her hand.

Waverly nodded and Bobo forced himself towards the door. With the Heir back, it was time to get back to business. Nicole would watch after her and protect her. He was leaving her in good hands.

* * *

Notes: I've been poking at this one all weekend, but I decided to go with it today. It's weird, I really like Nicole, but for some reason I have trouble writing her. I'd really like to work with the idea that Bobo has kept tabs on Waverly over the years to make sure she was safe and happy and was, uh... not so pleased with her dating choices (he seemed awful pleased Champ was the one choking on the poison in S1), but is actually pretty fond of Nicole. I'll get there. These two work slowly around each other apparently lol


	30. Stubborn

**Stubborn**

The first run in that Bobo had had with the the government organization marked by the black star on their badge had been under Edwin Earp. Wyatt's grandson had aligned with them to help him further his ambitions to kill all seventy-seven Revenants before one got a good shot in at him. It had been an alliance that had quickly become a sore subject for the Revenant leader who had been desperate to keep the delicate balance in their cursed part of the world. There were other ways to break the curse. He'd always been confident of that, but during those months he had had to face the possibility that he wouldn't live long enough to bring it about.

He had met a marshal under the so-called Black Badge division during one of his many sit downs with Edwin. The man had been grim and brooding, with dark eyes that seemed to cut straight through to the soul. Or would have, had there been much left of Bobo's. He'd met that stare evenly and offered a sharp, dangerous grin. He hadn't flinched though, and that's what unsettled him the most.

Edwin had tried to kill him at the end of his tenure as Heir and Bobo was certain that the marshal with the black badge had been the one to take the original shot at him. After Edwin had died he had sent some of his boys to clear out the visiting division and those that had survived the message hadn't come back.

Black Badge, like so much, had drifted to the back of the Revenant's mind. They weren't an immediate threat and his attentions had been diverted to Ward for years. To The Lead. And then _that_ had all gone to hell and Purgatory had gone as quiet as it ever did. The next Heir - tucked away in secret - wasn't of age yet so the Revenants' numbers remained thinned out from Ward's tenure.

So when he ran into a man who had flashed a black star at him in a dark alleyway of Purgatory he'd laughed outright and told the man to run along. He hadn't expected him to have the balls to shoot him.

Bobo stumbled back against the outer wall of the building that lined one side of the alley, hand moving to the source of the pain. It came away bloody and he looked up, a snarl building in his throat as the man leveled the gun to shoot again. "Bobo Del Rey, you are-"

The Revenant flicked his wrist and the gun went flying, startling the man that had been holding it. "What?" Bobo demanded lowly, his voice raspy with the pain that was spreading. The wound might not kill him, but it had ripped a hole in him that wasn't meant to be there, leaving him hurting and _pissed_. "Exactly what was your plan here? Arrest me? You can't kill me."

The Black Badge agent blinked hard, like he was trying to gauge the situation and Bobo straightened, pulling himself up to his full height and pushing the pain aside as best he could. It was temporary. The wound would heal and wouldn't even leave a scar after a while. This night would be nothing more than a blip of a memory for him. It would be this idiot's last though.

Bobo lunged at him and caught him and he hauled him up and off the ground by the collar first, his hands moving to the man's neck as he held him against the building. The movement seemed to spark some sort of reaction - training or maybe just the instinct to fight for his life - and he kicked out, a well placed knee landing hard against the wound and Bobo dropped him, growling out a curse and a threat as he saw red.

The BBD agent moved quickly, taking advantage of the Revenant's distraction, and Bobo didn't even see the knife that he lashed out at him with. He felt it though. It bit into his side. His coat acted as a buffer, but it didn't completely stop the blade from slicing through skin. It stole his breath. He could feel cold metal slipping between ribs and he staggered.

"Wanna bet?" the man asked smugly, pulling his weapon back out and stepping back to strike again. "There's nothing in your file that says you're actually immortal. I'm here to prove you're not. Everything can be killed."

"Only one thing that can kill me," Bobo snarled. He could feel the brand on his back burn with effort as he pulled the knife around. The fool didn't even let go, but that didn't matter. The metal went where the Revenant commanded it to, and it left the agent that might have thought he could earn a name for himself by killing a demon in Purgatory slumped in a dark alleyway with a knife in his throats and a vacant expression in his eyes.

Bobo stumbled a little, the pain spiking as the adrenaline wore. This was not what he'd expected out of the night. He'd been on his way to Shorty's to pick up burgers of all things. In a life like his, it had been such a mundane sort of task, but one he'd actually been looking forward to. A quiet evening without the hounding that always came with the idiots at the trailer park. Now there he was standing over a dead Black Badge agent, blood escaping from two separate wounds, and he had to admit that he may have underestimated the boy.

A grimaced as he pulled his coat back to try to inspect the damage. The dim lighting didn't do him any favours, but he could see dark brown blood spreading across his grey shirt, darkening it as it went. He needed to get out of the alley. The last thing he needed was to pass out there and have some damnable do-gooder try to take him to the hospital. Most of Purgatory worked hard to ignore the curse the town existed under, but doctors liked their questions. No, he needed to lay low and heal.

He moved in a fog, instinct keeping him out of sight until he hit the edge of town. If he'd still been human he wouldn't have made it that far, but somehow his legs managed to stay under him as he left the town's edge and moved into the swan reservoir. He couldn't remember actively deciding to go there, but as snow started to fall around him he found himself standing under the treehouse, his shallow breaths showing in a fog in front of him.

Slowly he made his way up, his fingers numb around the rungs of the ladder and his footing slipped at the top, sending him crashing down to the porch in front of the door. Bobo lay there for a long moment, trembling and hurting. He couldn't pull in enough air to satisfy is body and he felt the panic start to rise. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he wasn't suffocating, knew that staying calm was the better way to stay conscious, but it felt like someone as forcing him to breathe through a thick sheet. He just couldn't.

"Robert, what the hell-" came the voice from the other side of the door, but the words dropped abruptly as she pulled it open. "Robert?"

A soft moan was all he could manage from where he had curled on the porch, buried inside his coat. Willa's voice was becoming more and more panicked as she bent down, her gloved fingers brushing back the fur on his coat to try to get a good look at his face. "Robert, please. I need you to look at me. You're scaring me."

The words finally sunk in and Bobo forced himself to look up. She was beautiful, the snow falling down around her and those clear eyes of her focused in on him. He couldn't pinpoint when the little girl he'd rescued so many years ago had become a woman, but he knew that he'd been pushing the realization aside for a long while now. Trying to push it off, at any rate. It was difficult with the way he caught her looking at him sometimes, but he was determined not to let it go anywhere. He was her…. he wasn't sure anymore. Captor. Savior. Something. He gave to plenty of his darker impulses, but he had always been wary of this one. He'd promised to protect her, and he wasn't sure that's what he'd be doing if….

"Robert, don't close your eyes. Please, look at me. There you are," she coaxed softly, fear lining her voice, but it was strong and much steadier now. She was taking control of the situation. "I need your help to get you inside, okay?"

He gave the barest of nods and felt her shift her grip in him. He had gone numb as he lay there bleeding on her doorstep, but that wouldn't last. This was going to hurt.

Bobo bit back the sharp cry as he got to his feet, Willa supporting a surprising amount of his weight. She eased one of his arms over her shoulders and wrapped her own around his back under his coat. They took it slow and careful, and he had never been so thankful for such a small place.

"No," he huffed when he realized she was directing him to the bed.

"This really isn't the time to talk about boundaries," she grumbled and he almost laughed, but a soft snort was all that managed to escape him.

"Don't want to bleed all over it," he murmured softly.

"We'll deal with that," she promised and ushered him over anyway.

He sank down onto the mattress, feeling the springs give some under his weight, but she wouldn't let him lie down. She was moving around him, tugging his coat from his shoulders and kneeling to unlaced his boots. "Okay," she said at last and he all but fell back, a soft sound escaping him as he did, but he let her do as she pleased when she lifted his legs to the bed and pulled a thick quilt over them. She had tugged her gloves off at some point, and as she pulled his shirt up to inspect the damage he could feel her cool fingers on his burning skin. "Okay. I can do this. Daddy taught me how to patch people up. I can…." He heard her falter and cracked an eye that he hadn't realized he had closed open. She was taking a steadying breath. "I can do this. I'm going to boil some water. Don't move, don't fall asleep. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

He watched as she moved to the stove and put a pot of water on. The fire had already been lit beneath it for warmth so it wouldn't take too long.

"Robert?" she called, and he blinked hard. Right. She'd asked him a question.

"Ran into someone."

"Really? That's all?" she asked as she dug in a drawer and pulled a cloth from it, dunking it in the water and wringing it out before she approached him. His gaze flickered over to where she had set a few supplies down in a chair already. When had she done that? That wasn't good. He was losing bits of time.

"Black Badge," Bobo managed as she pulled his shirt back up carefully and watched her frown.

"Daddy told me years ago they weren't in Purgatory anymore. He didn't like them."

"They had one here," the Revenant huffed, "and he was a fair aim."

She was as gentle as she could be as she wiped the dried blood away, giving her a better view of the wounds. "Was he trying to kill you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Not sure. To say he could, I 'spose." The cloth moved directly over the wound in his side and Bobo jerked away from it.

"Hold still," she snapped.

"Don't go making it worse," he growled, every muscle tensing with the new waves of pain. He could feel the brand burning and with the red tint to the room and the way she had stepped back he would wager that his eyes were glowing by that point. The blood loss mixed with the pain was putting a strain even on him, and he could feel everything that made him what he was struggling to keep him breathing.

"Anyone ever tell you you're an ass when you're hurt?" she grumbled, but he saw the way her fair brows drew together as she finished cleaning the blood away, reaching for her supplies. "How quick do you heal, anyway? Do I… it's been a long time since I've tried to sew up a wound. I don't know…"

"Don't," he grunted. "I'll heal."

She nodded, reaching to put a hand to the side of his face. "You're really warm."

"Body's fightin' to keep me alive," he managed, feeling exhaustion tug on him.

"But you can't die, right? Only Peacemaker-

"Yeah," he cut her off, reaching a clumsy hand up and she found it quickly, tucking her fingers around his eagerly. It felt good to hold onto her, even as everything else seemed to fade around him.

"Robert, you can't close your eyes. _Robert_!"

She sounded like she was down a tunnel, and even though her screams became more frantic they faded into the distance as he sank into darkness. He needed to tell her it would be alright. It wouldn't look alright - he knew what dying felt like and he knew he was losing the fight then - but it would be. It wouldn't stick. But he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried his eyes were slipping closed and he felt himself sinking down, the last thought on his mind that at least he wasn't alone this time.

* * *

Bobo wasn't sure how long he was out for, but when he woke again he heard muffled crying. Funny, Willa rarely cried. She'd mourned her father and her life years before, but she was strong and brave. Tears were a rarity she didn't bother with most of the time. Bobo worked his way up through the layers of darkness and sucked in a deep breath, feeling a jolt a he came around.

"Robert?"

"Yeah," he rasped, grimacing as he did. He was cold. Too cold. He hadn't just passed out.

Willa moved into his line of vision and she looked like she'd been crying for some time. "You stopped breathing," she managed. "You stopped… your heart wasn't beating and you got so cold…. you…"

She looked terrified and Bobo reached a still-shaky hand up. "Hey. I'm okay," he reassured her, his voice gruff. "Ain't no one who could kill me but you."

Willa folded into him and Bobo let her. He tried to keep a distance between them, but right then he didn't think he could have told her no if he'd wanted to. Her hair tickled her nose and her cheek was pressed against his chest. He stroked her dark blonde hair as she listened to the proof that his heart was beating again, struggling not to linger on the idea that they could just… stay like this.

After a moment she tightened her grip and he loosed a small, pained sound. "Still not healed up," he reminded her and she sat up.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Not your fault."

"Do I-"

"You've taken good care of me," he promised, his lips quirking up in a rare, soft smile. "Better'n anybody else would."

"Yeah, well, something tells me you're a stubborn patient," she grumbled, but she wore a small smile of her own.

"So I've been told."

She reached up, brushing back dark hair, and without warning she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

"Willa…"

"I know, I know." Her eyes broke contact with his. "You keep telling me that I can't love you. That I don't…" She shook her head and he saw the frustration that had built there in the last year or so. "I'm old enough to know, and watching someone die, thinking you'll never get to say anything again, that puts things in perspective." Those clear eyes darted back to hold his and he found he couldn't look away. "I do love you, Robert. It's the reason I didn't want to leave you when you offered. It's the reason I chose to wait until I can take you with me. I've lost too much already, and I _refuse_ to lose you too."

Bobo found himself staring at her, completely unable to argue all the points he stood by as to why being with him was a horrible idea. Why it wasn't fair to her. Why she was…. If the arguments had just worn thin or the blood loss was affecting his reasoning abilities, he didn't fight her when she leaned down and kissed him. To the contrary, he found himself kissing her back, his hand moving to the side of her face and his fingers buried in her hair. He had trouble catching his breath when she pulled away, but it was worth it.

"Stubborn," he rasped and she grinned at him.

"More stubborn than you."

"Mm. I wouldn't say that."

Her smile warmed and he felt the strangest sensation as his arguments of why he shouldn't love her washed away under it. He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to it, lingering there for a long moment with his lips against her knuckles and revelling in the closeness.

Willa leaned forward, her forehead pressed against his. "Tell me I won't lose you, Robert," she said lowly, her voice sending chills up his spine.

"You won't lose me," he swore. "As long as you'll have me."

She nodded, accepting the answer. He watched her pull away from him and tried to crush the feeling of disappointment that came with the distance. His gaze lingered on her as she stood, but then carefully eased herself over him so that she could lie between him and the wall. He didn't protest. He did nestle down into the bed a little deeper though, focusing on the warmth of the woman next to him and the strange sensation of warmth and… safety. It was so foreign to him after having lived amongst his enemies so long, but with Willa he had safety and maybe even happiness someday. He'd make sure of it. If he was going to go down this path, he had to make sure that she was free of this curse same as he was at the end of it.

"I don't want to hear one complaint if I wake you up every ten minutes to make sure you're still breathing," she grumbled sleepily and Bobo smiled, shifting to pull her in just a little closer to his uninjured side as they fell asleep.

* * *

Notes: I've been discussing Bobo quite a bit over on Tumblr and got in the mood for some hurt/comfort. Somehow I killed him? That's just sort of been my week. But there was fluffy goodness at the end so please no one hate me? *hides*


	31. Out of Town

Notes: So, I've been in NYC the last few days and while there I was chatting with Kimmins and SetMeAtopThePyre about how interesting it would be after the curse was broken and Bobo could actually leave the Triangle to send him to some place like that... how would he handle all of that and such. Finally got a chance to write it on the plane home last night.

 **Out of Town**

Wynonna hadn't known what to expect. She hadn't been worried about Doc. Doc had rolled with nearly every culture shock that he'd been dealt since the day that he'd come crawling up from that well. From everything she heard he'd made the trip with only one mishap - in the form of trying leaving his knife in his bag, but Wynonna had _warned_ Dolls to make sure he didn't have that or, possibly worse, his guns when they left out - but there was something about the thought of Bobo Del Rey in an airport, handing over a photo ID, going through security, and getting on a plane that made her think that maybe she should be prepared for the worst.

The fact that it all had to be thrown together last second hadn't helped.

In the wake of Bulshar's defeat and the curse breaking a new division of Black Badge had reached out to Dolls. Things had escaped the Ghost River Triangle. Big and bad things, and the division was holding him and his "team" - seriously, what did these people think they were? - responsible for it. Dolls had flown out to meet with them twice before, but now they were determined that everyone needed to come out. When Dolls had tried to get them out of it he'd been told they were welcome to book their trip on their own or they'd be welcoming an escort into Purgatory. They were coming, like it or not.

They hadn't known the details about Bobo at first. Oh, they knew about him, of course. He had been the leader of the Revenants, there was no staying off their radar with that, but they hadn't realized he'd worked his angle against Bulshar to take him down, nor that he eventually sided fully with what Jeremy had started calling "Team Earp" and had fought alongside the rest of them to bring the demon down and keep him there.

The moment Black Badge had found out there was suddenly a request for Mr Del Rey to accompany them… you know, now that he could and what not.

He'd been surprisingly chill about the whole thing, shrugging and saying that they needed to get a feel for this new Black Badge and if they were a threat or not. That had been the first thing to set Wynonna on edge, but she'd agreed that he shouldn't fly alone, and they hadn't been able to get a ticket out of the Big City with the rest of them, so she had changed hers to the following day. It wasn't like she could really shuffle him off on Waverly to deal with anyway. She didn't have any more experience than the one hundred plus - year - old Revenant that had been stuck within the same boundaries for the last ninety of those years.

Wynonna had been skeptical when Bobo had said he had an ID, but he'd produced a driver's license still within a valid date. She tried to picture him willingly waltzing into the sheriff's office that doubled as Purgatory's DMV, filling out paperwork and letting them snap a photo of him. The longer she studied it, though, the more she thought that he'd probably terrified the poor sap that had taken the photo with the way that icy blue glare of his cut through. Funny, his hair was still dark in in the photo, and a quick glance to the date showed that he must have had it made before his attempted escape with Willa that had resulted in his trip down to hell and everything that had happened after. The dark hair was such a contrast with the platinum blond strip that remained as a reminder of what Bulshar had done with and to him. She'd never heard the full story of exactly what had happened in that mine, but she knew that he'd had to fight the demon's influence until the day that Peacemaker's bullet had struck Bulshar between the eyes.

Bobo hadn't tried to bring a knife with him like Doc had, but he had come too damn close to throwing a fit at security for Wynonna's liking. He'd refused to hand them his coat or his boots. The former Revenant leader had looked almost insulted when they had told him to load it into the tray and Wynonna had thought they were going to arrest him for a minute with the way he'd stood there snarling at the poor soul that had dared to ask him to follow the same protocol everyone else was. The Earp Heir had already crossed through by that point and there had been nothing to be done but watch and hope that she didn't have to call Nedley to see if he had any pull with law enforcement in the Big City.

They'd made it through though and he had looked like he might never part with that damn coat as soon as he got it back. Yet another story Wynonna still hadn't gotten. Maybe she should have made a list for the trip.

If she had expected him to talk during the flight, though, she was mistaken. He had seemed perfectly fine with the idea of hopping a plane to the Black Badge offices in New York City when it had come up, but as they got closer and closer Wynonna had watched the subtle changes. Those sharp eyes of his had watched through the massive windows as planes took off and landed outside. He'd been quiet. That wasn't abnormal, per se, and he was answering easily enough when Wynonna asked him something he cared about and brushing her off if the question was something he didn't like, but once they were actually on the plane she couldn't help but notice that he'd gone a little paler than usual and that once they were seated that he took as subtle of a death grip on the armrest as he could manage.

"You nervous?"

"No."

"Going to tear the arm off the chair?"

That had gotten her a glare and a low growl that had left his throat on a breath as he forced his fingers to uncurl, his teeth clicking together audibly as he did. Wynonna had muttered an apology and had left him alone after that. She still wasn't sure exactly what the curse breaking had left him with, and she had no interest in finding out what a nervous Bobo Del Rey could do to a giant flying hunk of metal in the sky - possibly without even meaning to - if he still had his telekinesis.

There'd been turbulence. Of course there had. He'd gone from ghostly pale to a little green with that and had slumped deeply into his seat, long legs pressed against the back of the seat in front of him, and had just curled up in his coat with his eyes closed the rest of the way.

He had given a soft grunt when they landed, finally releasing his new hold on the arm rest that Wynonna hadn't noticed until then and had waited in silence until she nudged him to follow the others off the plane and she had no idea how she was going to get him on the return flight back. Maybe this was the moment that Bobo left Purgatory for good. She'd thought he would after the dust settled, but he just never had. Not permanently at least.

They caught a cab into the city and she wasn't sure how much he heard about what the plan was. Dolls and Jeremy were meeting with Black Badge officials all day while Waverly, Nicole, and Doc would meet them at the hotel. He nodded at all the right times, but his gaze remained fixed out the window as if he were staring at the passing cityscape.

Finally, as they climbed out of the cab and into the rush of the city and his gaze swept upward with an almost haunted look to it, she'd had enough. "Hey," Wynonna called to him and popped him hard on the shoulder to gain his attention. "You gonna be okay? Did we break you?"

Bobo blinked rapidly as he turned to look at her and finally cleared his throat, uttering the first words she'd heard from him in hours now. "I've been here before."

It was her turn to stare. "Okay?"

"It was…." He cursed lowly, shaking his head and running a hand over his hair to smooth it back. "Late sixties maybe?"

Wynonna gaped a little. "Sixties? Weren't you stuck in Purgatory?"

"Eighteen."

Then it hit her. He'd been to New York before the curse. Before Wyatt. Before…. "Ah," she managed.

"It's changed. Everything….. changed."

"No shit. Kinda happens with a century between."

He snorted a short laugh, shaking his head. "Don't I know it? Used to take _weeks_ , months in weather like this. Only so much you can read or see on a screen. It's…."

"Welcome to the twenty-first century, I guess?"

"'spose so." He squeezed his eyes shut and Wynonna stood there for a long moment and waited, not sure what to do. Hers and Bobo's relationship was a strange one, usually filled with plenty of mockery and snark, even if they had an unadmitted and begrudging respect for each other these days. But this was too weird, watching him try to process it all. He'd watched most of the development as far as she knew, but knowing that it was happening and experiencing it like this had to have been jarring. Not everyone reacted like Doc did, and she'd never seen Bobo forced into a situation like this before. They'd always been in Purgatory or the Big City. Familiar territory.

"Wynonna! You made it! Why didn't you call?"

Wynonna turned just in time to set her footing so that her sister didn't knock her over. She was supposed to call when they landed. Right. She'd been so caught up in directing a nearly catatonic Bobo Del Rey through the airport and then into a cab that she'd completely forgotten. "We got a little tied up."

"How'd you like your first plane ride, Bobo?" Waverly chirped, nearly bouncing. "Wasn't it amazing? Isn't this city amazing? The movies don't do it justice. Just _look_ at it all!"

His expression softened a little and Wynonna could almost see him shove the emotions he'd been nearly drowning in since the airport back home down and below the surface again, finally regaining at least the appearance of control. "'course it is, Angel."

"Waverly has the whole day planned out," Doc said as he greeted Wynonna with a quick kiss to the cheek.

As if to prove the point Waverly started rattling off the list of things she'd put together for them to do, Nicole smiling at her side as she added in at a couple of places that Waverly got turned around at. Wynonna risked a look over to their newest member of their bizarre little family to see him almost smiling as he listened to her continue on. Maybe she should have had Waverly go with him.

The older Earp waited until her younger sister had finished and directed them all up to the hotel rooms to throw their stuff down before they started in on it all. "You going to be okay?"

Bobo quirked an off-coloured eyebrow at her. "Ain't the first culture shock I've gotten since the curse," he said, that even drawl of his working back into place, almost like he was bored by the conversation already.

"You think you'll make the flight back okay?"

He smirked at her. "You hopin' to get rid of me, Earp?"

She snorted and rolled her eyes. "And let things get boring?"

A low chuckle rumbled from him and he moved past her, bag in hand, to follow a very impatient Waverly through the revolving doors and into the hotel.


	32. Christmas Carols and Eggnog

**Christmas Carols and Eggnog**

He'd been trying to get ahold of them all day long. Any of them. Wynonna's little band of followers weren't usually this difficult to find, and even though the talisman worked into one of his rings allowed Bobo passage onto the Homestead these days he didn't often choose to go. Today, though, he was running shy on options. They weren't at Shorty's, weren't at the sheriff's station, so there he was trudging up the pathway through the shin-deep snow drifts and pulling his fur coat just a little closer around him to block the cold wind that was driving the flakes still falling into his face.

There was light inside the house and he could see movement through the thin curtains. Bobo did one last sweep of the area to quadruple check that he hadn't been followed and wasn't being watched before knocking his heavy boots on the first step and making his way to the front door. His hands were so cold that his knuckles actually hurt as he popped them again the wooden door and waited.

Someone shouted from inside and he loosed a long breath, watching it appear in a cloud in front of him as he waited, silently cursing whoever was taking their time to let him freeze on the front porch.

The door opened and Nicole Haught blinked owlishly at him. "Took you long enough. We were going to start without you," she said after a long moment and Bobo's brows drew together.

"'Scuse me?"

"You _did_ get the voicemails Waverly left, right?"

The confusion didn't elevate as he stared at her. Then it clicked. The cellphone that Wynonna had forced on him. He hated the damned things, but she'd been determined that if they were going to work together to take down Clootie that they should be able to get ahold of each other and that it was _time for him to join the rest of them in the twenty-first century_.

"Thing died," he huffed at least. "Ain't worked in a couple days."

"You have to plug it in."

"I know."

"Did you?"

Bobo wasn't quite sure if he was amused or irritated at the ginger cop. It should probably be a good sign that Waverly had finally chosen to love someone with more than half a functioning brain cell, but he really didn't feel like being interrogated over a cell phone. Or admitting that he had no idea where the charger had gotten to.

Nicole finally rolled her eyes and stepped aside as if she was inviting him in. "It means a lot to Waverly that you're here. Just… pretend you got the message and came for her, okay?"

"What message? What the hell are you…." Bobo only had to take one step into the Earp sisters' home to see the reason he'd had so much trouble getting ahold of anyone. The entire house was lit with strings of green, red, and white lights. They lined door frames and the inside of the windows. As he stepped further in he could hear what sounded like people laughing in the kitchen and music from the old piano.

"It's Christmas Eve," Nicole said pointedly. "I swear, if you're here to tell us that Bulshar's attacking or something…"

"No, not that urgent," he said quickly. "I should-"

"Oh no you don't," Nicole snapped, actually reaching out like she was going to take hold of him if he tried to turn tail and run. "Waverly's been trying to get ahold of you all day to invite you. She's been really upset that she couldn't. The least you can do is make an appearance. It's not like you're going to burst into flames over a little Christmas celebration."

Bobo snorted at the redhead's attempted joke and Nicole's lips twitched upward in a very small smile. She really did love his angel. "Fine. For Waverly."

"Good. Come on."

He followed in, finding more Christmas decorations littered throughout the old home. Garland lined the stairs, the normal pillows and blankets were replaced with Christmas-themed ones, and surprisingly delicious-smelling food. He paused for half a beat at the entrance to the kitchen where Wynonna, Holliday, Dolls, and Junior - at this point the nickname had stuck so firmly that the others consistently questioned if Bobo even remembered Jeremy's name - were dancing around each other, John Henry putting out the beginnings of a kitchen fire that Wynonna was denying having started. She turned and locked gazes with him, and if Bobo didn't know better she was happy to see him, if only to distract from the fact that she nearly set the stove on fire. "Bobo Del Rey, nice of you to finally make an appearance."

One off-coloured eyebrow lifted up, but even the distraction from her near disaster wasn't enough to have her keep him there. Wynonna waved him off. "Waverly's in the living room."

"He doesn't charge his phone," Nicole stage whispered, breaking off to the kitchen and Bobo rolled his eyes and continued to the living room to find Waverly sitting with her back to the entrance at an old, beaten up piano.

He had only been inside the Earp family home a small handful of times now, but he couldn't recall a piano being there before. There it sat, though, with Waverly on the bench, her fingers dancing a little clumsily over the keys and she was humming a song that threatened to drag him back to memories of many, many years before with a large fireplace and a family seated around it for light and warmth as his father had read from the scriptures and his mother had led them in carols from the old piano they had brought with them West. As Bobo stood there listening to Waverly pick her way through _O Holy Night_ \- a feat within itself, from what he remembered - he closed his eyes and he could almost see them, almost hear his mother's voice and his brother and sister joining in, the words of the song that had filled their home on the brink of the greatest war that they had thought possible at the time.

Then the music stopped and he was dragged immediately back to the present to find his Angel had turned and was staring at him, her expression a mix of carefully contained excitement and intentional irritation. "Took you long enough."

That pulled a small smile from him. "Nicole said the same," he murmured. "I was… detained. Forgive me?"

The irritation washed away and she shrugged, turning back to her song. "It _is_ Christmas. I guess I should," she answered. "I forget that you know all of these."

He inched just a little closer to the piano. It was the one that had been at Shorty's. Now he recognized it. "Hmm?"

"The hymns. You told me once when I was little that you knew them and I thought it was weird then. Weirder now to hear you sing one. Even when you tried to teach me when I was a kid, I never heard you sing."

Bobo stared at her a long moment, violently shoving at the rising embarrassment. He had been so caught up in the memory that he hadn't realized that he was actually singing the words to the song she'd been playing. He cleared his throat, finding her staring at him curiously. There was so much he'd hidden from her over the years, but now that things were out, now that they were all on the same side…. She was owed a few truths, he supposed, even if they didn't directly pertain to her. " _O Holy Night_ was my mother's favourite."

That brought a smile to his angel's face and she scooted over on the bench. "You remember how to play it? I'm not very good."

"You're better 'n you think," he said gruffly, his gaze flickering to the tablet she had set up on the stand and the notes there to try to work through. As much as she wanted him to, he didn't think he could just sit down with her and resume the song. Even the few moments he'd spent letting the memories trickle in and brought the bad with the good and tainted even the latter.

He mumbled an excuse of a cigarette and left before she could argue, moving past the kitchen with an unnatural quiet that he could manage when he put his mind to it and slipped back out the front door. The wind hit him immediately and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the heaviness that had settled in his chest as he dug in his pocket for cigarettes and lighter. He moved up to the corner of the house, using it to block the chill and get the thing lit, inhaling deeply. Christmas wasn't exactly celebrated amongst Revenants so it had been years since he had bothered to let the memories trickle back in. Now that they had it felt like a crack in a formly well-constructed dam that threatened to flood. If he'd realized this was what everyone was doing, he would have waited or come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't show. There were few things he wouldn't give his angel when she asked, but as he stood on the porch of the Earp Homestead, cigarette held between trembling fingers, he thought this should have been one thing he withheld.

The door opened and he heard the familiar sound of Waverly's footsteps as she stepped out, wrapped up in her own coat and mittens, a mug of something held in either hand. She moved towards him, extending one mug. "You okay?"

"'Course," he answered gruffly.

"Uh-huh."

He snorted and took the mug, peering in at the milky, steaming liquid inside of it. One good sniff smelled like eggnog. All he could think was that it better be spiked.

Waverly leaned into him, bumping her shoulder against his arm. "I've been pissed at you all day, you know."

"Sorry," he huffed, taking a sip of the eggnog and raising an eyebrow. It was more bourbon than it was eggnog. That was just about right. Leave it to the Earps to make a drink right.

"It's okay," Waverly said softly, leaning back against the house. "I never thought that it might not be your thing. That it might…" She stopped and he wished she'd drop the conversation, but he knew a futile hope when he had it. "You always act like such an ass that sometimes I forget you have this whole past that I don't know much about that hurts you. There are plenty of people that holidays do that to. Wynonna doesn't really like Christmas. It makes her miss Daddy… and Willa. And now Alice, but she puts up with it for me."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Bobo grumbled and his angel laughed.

"That's not what I mean. I'm just saying… you're not alone. Not anymore. Sometimes that helps."

He blinked hard and took another long swig of the burning eggnog. Waverly did the same, leaned in against his shoulder. "And someday, when you're ready, I'd love to hear about your life before the curse. About your mom and little Robert Svane's life. I think there's a lot of him left under all the layers of asshole you try to show everyone."

"Ain't none of him left."

She hummed softly, neither agreeing or disagreeing, but she didn't move. "We can pick a different one when we go back in. Maybe something you don't know. Something newer."

He sighed, the smoke from his cigarette curling out from him, and he swallowed hard. "It was her favourite," he repeated what he'd said inside. "We sang it every Christmas up through the war. My father was killed in it, and it stopped at our house." He flicked the cigarette butt out into the snow. "She cried every time she heard it after that, but it was till her favourite."

"Funny how that works out sometimes," Waverly murmured.

"Yeah."

"Like how Earps keep causing you trouble and you keep coming back to us?"

He looked down at her to see a sly smile and he rolled his eyes. "Can't get rid of you assholes," he grumbled and finished off his drink. "C'mon. It's freezing and if your sister lights something else on fire I plan on giving her hell."

"Else?" Waverly squeaked and Bobo gave her a wolfish grin that made her laugh. She didn't argue going inside, though, and the warmth hit them both as soon as they were through the door. It was more than that, if he were really honest with himself though. It was a sense of…. Belonging. Something he hadn't had in too long now. He'd spent the last century amongst his enemies, waiting for the right time to move for freedom, but here, in the home of Wyatt's descendants and for the first time in longer than he cared to think about, he was starting to feel those carefully constructed walls break down just a little. He might not like them half the time, but against everything his past had taught him, he was starting to trust them bit by bit.

He felt a nudge to his ribs and Waverly was smiling at him. "Merry Christmas, Bobo. I'm glad you came."

"Yeah," he managed, his voice a little rougher than he expected. "Merry Christmas, Angel."

* * *

Notes: Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope you and yours have a safe and happy holiday through New Years!


	33. Deals Struck

**Deals Struck**

Summary: Pre-series. A few months after the Revenants are first resurrected, Josiah Earp comes into town.

* * *

"You've looked better."

Robert offered a glare at the smirking man perched on a barstool next to the one he had just taken and motioned to the barkeep for what was quickly becoming his usual. "All I ask is that they let me have as close to peace as I can find here. Is that really too much?"

"For them? Absolutely. They're restless. Driven. Perhaps for a reason."

The whiskey slid across the bar and Robert shot Lou a questioning look. The other man smirked a little around his glass. "Don't tell me you didn't feel it. The shift. We all did. You're no better and you know it."

He'd felt something, he knew, but what it was he hadn't known. If Lou did or the smug bastard was just fishing for information, he couldn't be sure. He wasn't sure he trusted former - not so former, in all likelihood - con artist. He had caught a bullet from Wyatt when he had tried to squirm free of a trial. He hadn't made it to the edge of the town he had been in, and had woken up in Purgatory a handful of years later. He was a clever man, but so was Robert. An alliance did not mean he should trust him.

"I hope you have as good as you got," Lou chuckled, motioning to Robert's broken nose. "They're not going to stop coming, not now that they know what you can do."

His mind flashed to recent memories splattered with metal and Revenant blood. "The ones that jumped me will."

Lou grinned toothily. "See, and that's how we climb to the top."

"Is it we?" the blue eyed man asked, quirking one off-coloured eyebrow. There had been a handful of physical changes he had come across since he had been dragged back up from hell, the strange white patch in his beard and across the opposite eyebrow only two. It was the brand burned into his back that bothered him the most so far. Any time he used his new powers he had acquired from the curse, it burned deeply, like it was reminding him just who he was now in all of this.

"Of course it is," Lou answered cheerfully. "I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Robert chuckled roughly into his glass. "I'm sure you do." The door on the other side of the bar opened and he glanced up to see who was coming in. It wasn't a large town and the faces quickly became familiar. He had a good idea which ones were local, which were Revenants that had popped up a few months earlier, and the rare traveller passing through. The man that entered he knew only at a distance. Barkley. Something Barkley, but he'd never actually bothered with his first name. He was Purgatory's sheriff and in so far over his head in the last few months that he might have drowned several times over.

He had a man with him, still on the younger side of thirty with wide, curious eyes that immediately took in every corner of the saloon. "Well, this place hasn't changed. This was always my father's first place to stop when we came into town." A familiar sort of smile crossed his lips. "I see nothing's slowed down here."

"Who's gonna care about a little town like Purgatory anyway? I ain't gonna be the one to try to stop 'em from drinkin'," Barkley laughed, looking around nervously even as he did. Eyes flashed red here and there around the saloon and Robert could almost feel the unease in the air. "How long you stayin' for, anyway?"

"I plan to put down roots here."

"You lookin' for a job?"

The young man's smile broadened a little. "Trying to offload yours?"

"Might be."

"You're staring."

Robert flinched at the voice close to his ear and he turned to see Lou grinning like a shark. "Just want to make sure no one does anything foolish."

His companion snorted at the statement. "Most of these idiots don't know what they're sensing, but I reckon you do. He _looks_ like Wyatt Earp, doesn't he?"

Almost as if on cue the sheriff's visitor looked over, finding Robert staring. Their gazes locked for just a moment and he could feel the brand heating on his back. The Heir. Wyatt's son. He didn't even know the boy's name, but less than five minutes watching him laugh and joke with Barkley didn't give him any confidence that the other Revenants wouldn't tear him to pieces. Possibly right there at the very bar in which they all sat, and Robert wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it. Not the way that things were right then.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. There was one thing he could do.

"Where're you going?" Lou asked, genuinely confused as Robert paid for his single drink and stood without finishing it.

"I don't have to watch it happen," he answered gruffly, rounding the bar towards the door and feeling the young Earp's eyes on him the whole way. He refused to meet them as he passed by, focused instead on the door. He wasn't sure exactly where he was heading, but he knew he had to get out of there.

The door shut behind him and he didn't hear anything for a long moment as he started down the street. He thought he was home free, of a sort, until he heard it open again behind him and an unfamiliar voice yelled out, "Robert!"

It was everything he could do not to turn. He didn't even flinch, but just kept walking. Less than a handful of people knew his real name in this town anymore, and he had no interest in encouraging the young Earp to call it out for all of Purgatory to hear.

Without warning he turned down an alley, finding it blessedly empty, and he decided he would cut around and back towards the woods at the outskirts of town where he had been camping. Alone. Which was how he handled much of his life these days.

Wyatt's son just wouldn't give up though. He quickened his pace, and Robert would have had to start jogging to lose him, so instead he turned on his heel, swiveling around and putting on a glare he tended to reserve for other Revenants that had decided to try their hand at besting the one they kept hearing about that could move metal. "Stop following me."

The young man stuttered to a stop, almost running straight into him. He straightened then, adjusting the hat he wore on his head, and instead of the fear that should have greeted Robert, the idiot Earp smiled. "It _is_ you. I knew it was the moment I spotted you. Robert Svane."

"Ain't nobody in Purgatory by that name," the Revenant growled.

The Earp Heir blinked owlishly at him and Robert found himself staring into a set of eyes the exact same shade as Wyatt's had been. He looked for hints of Josephine in the boy, but fell just short with every feature. He was all Wyatt, young and brash and full of life. He felt his chest tighten at the thought and for a moment he wasn't sure if he was angry or hurt or just very, very lonely.

"I know it's you," Wyatt's son pressed, taking a step closer and Robert took one back. "I'm Josiah Earp. My father was Wyatt Earp. He had this old photo and he told me about you. When I was old enough he told me everything about Clootie and what you two did to stop him… what _you_ did to help stop him. I've been to your grave."

The words didn't match his excitement and it left the older man feeling sick. He pushed it down, his voice cold and hard. "Then you know Robert Svane's long dead. Gotta gravestone to prove it."

"But you were killed by Peacemaker, so you're back."

"Is that what Wyatt told you would happen?" He was struggling now to keep his composure. He'd wondered if Wyatt knew what he'd done to him. Maybe that's why he had never come back. Guilt or judgement for what he would become. It was hard to say with him. All Robert knew was that he had died for the man, died to help clean up the mess he'd left in his wake, and Wyatt had never come back, no matter how many letters had promised that he would. He'd never even warned him. If it hadn't been for Constance Clootie - and he didn't miss _that_ particular irony - Robert would have found out about the curse only when hell's flames tore at him.

"You're a Revenant, right? A demon. Father said-"

"If you know what I am you know what I can do to you."

"But you won't. You were my father's friend. His close friend. Does no one know?"

"And I'd like to keep it that way, so go. Get. You shouldn't have come to Purgatory to begin with."

"But I have to end the curse. It's my responsibility now. Look, I even have-"

Robert backpedaled at the site of Wyatt's gun pulled from Josiah's holster and the barrel glowed dangerously as it neared him. He could feel the burn of the brand on his back and the world tinged red around him. "Put that _away_ ," he snapped, pushing the barrel down and away from him with his powers. "You need to go."

"I have to stay. I promised him on his deathbed."

Robert snorted. So Wyatt had guilted his own son to his death. Wonderful. He shook his head and turned.

"Please, you were his friend. Won't you help me? I need help to end this curse."

"Only way to end it is to kill all seventy-seven that your dear ol' father put down with that thing, me included," Robert snarled. "No thank you. I already gave up my life once for Wyatt." He closed his eyes, frustration rolling through him like a storm brewing. Finally, he let them open again, and when he did he fixed a hard gaze on the young man. "We were friends once, and for that friendship I'll give you one piece of advice: They're gonna tear you to shreds here, boy. Get out of here before they can. You do what your daddy did and you cross that line and you _never_ look back."

Josiah stood there in the alleyway looking like he'd been physically struck. He didn't answer and Robert didn't give him time to regain his composure. He'd take the advice or he'd get himself killed. If it was the latter, he didn't want to be there when it happened.

* * *

He slept in fits and starts, every little noise waking him. He hadn't been found in his latest hiding place where he'd pitched his tent, but that didn't mean that he'd be safe for long. They were bloodthirsty and had been more than before. Now he knew why. Josiah Earp was here and he was of age. The first Heir had appeared in Purgatory and even though the demons had been resurrected months before, now the curse could begin in full.

Half the time when he slept, he dreamt of fire and burning and hell. He woke swallowing his own screams, terror gripping him down to what was left of his tattered soul. Those same images pulled at him that night. He fought against it, but the sound of a twig under a boot had him flying off his thin pallet on the hard ground, ready for whatever fight was about to be forced on him. He was at the intruder's throat before he was really awake, his eyes burning and a snarl on his lips.

Josiah Earp let out a startled breath, his hands held up in a non-threatening manner. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"Do you have a death wish?" Robert demanded, loosing his grip so suddenly that Josiah nearly fell.

He leaned back against the tree for support, his fingers rubbing at the place where his father's friend's hand had been wrapped around his throat just moments before. "No, I just needed to talk to you, and you obviously didn't want to talk in town."

"I didn't want to talk at all." He loosed what might have been a growl, low and frustrated, and moved to the simmering fire to kick dirt over it, smothering the last burning embers. He needed to pack up and move. Josiah would have led people to him, if the boy had meant to or not.

The young fool reached out, catching Robert by the coat sleeve. "Please. Just a moment of your time."

"You shoulda been long outta Purgatory by now."

"I'm not going to run. I'm not afraid."

Robert snorted, bending to pack his scant few possessions he had acquired.

"You said my father left Purgatory and never looked back, but that's not true." There was a pause as Robert stilled, fingers buried in a thin blanket. "My father came back here again and again until he got too sick to make the journey. He brought me here to show me what it was like. I've met these people. I know them. Ol' Carl Barkley? I've known him since I was five years old. Every time we'd go out to your grave and he'd tell me about his friend Robert Svane and what a good man he was. How much he gave to-"

A rough, pained chuckle left the Revenant. "What? He feel guilty when he realized what he'd done to me? Wanted to paint it up real nice?"

"He cared about you a great deal."

Robert sighed, his expression solemn. He hadn't hated Wyatt before his trip to hell, even when the man had left him to die. After the flames had bit and burned at what was left of who he had been and had spit out something entirely different on the other side, he wasn't quite sure how he felt. Some moments he thought he missed him. Those long talks about the good and the bad that men did and what drove them to it. About who they were and what they wanted to accomplish with their time in this world. Then, there were other moments when the mere thought of Wyatt Earp made him see red, made that brand burn deep and hot, and something deep inside his charred soul wanted to drag him back to the living just to rip him apart himself. As he looked back at the young man that looked so much like his father, he felt that pull. But that was the curse warping him to its bidding. If there was anything real in it, he wasn't sure, and he hated that the most.

"All my life I've tried to live up to my father's legend. I traveled to Europe and fought a war trying to live up to it, but this is it. This is what I've been working towards for nearly thirty years. I'm _meant_ to be here, Robert. I understand that that may sound absurd to you, but it doesn't make it any less true. I promised him I'd do everything in my power to end this curse, and I think you can help me."

"You're asking me to help you send me back to hell."

The words caused the young Earp to pause and he shifted from foot to foot for a moment, his eyes darting away before returning to meet Robert's gaze. "I read… a lot. I've studied religious materials and the occult and anything that I could get my hands on that I thought might help me to break this curse so that when I have my own children, they don't have to…. I _can't_ believe that a curse muttered out on a demon's dying breath was so airtight that there is only one way to break it. If you help me, if you can find a way to help me, I will do everything in my power to make sure you walk free at the end of this. Alive. As you should be. You didn't deserve this."

He had to remind himself to breathe as he stood there in the woods, his camp in shambles around them and staring into those grey eyes with so much hope. Hope would only set them up for disappointment. Hope would get them killed. Hope would….. He swallowed hard. "This town is in chaos. Even outlaws look for leadership of a sort. The strongest of the pack. I have an… acquaintance that has been pushing me to take steps to take that role."

"Could you?"

The question was honest. Josiah had no way to know. "Maybe," Robert breathed out. "Some of us got powers when we woke up here. I've seen a couple others, but nothing like mine. They keep comin' at me and nobody's been able to beat me yet." He shook his head, his lips quirking up at one corner. "I've never been much of a fighter, but now…."

"People follow leaders. People that will protect them where they can't protect themselves."

Smart boy. Maybe he wasn't as naive as Robert had originally thought. "Revenants can't do much against that gun of yours, I'd reckon."

Josiah's hand moved to touch the hilt of Peacemaker, his fingers running along his father's initials. "But you could intercede for them. We can find a balance that allows for time. I put the worst of the worst down as they come at me, and all the while we look for a different way to break it."

Robert pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "Your father'd've gone at it head on."

"I'm not him. If this is going to work, I have to do it my way. The thing that remains is that I need your help. Do I have it?"

Blue eyes met grey and Robert watched him carefully, taking in every twitch, every small move. This was dangerous. It could go wrong at so many points. Lou was a dangerous loose end, and the moment that Robert started to make a move for power Lou would be right there claiming to have done something to help. They had to be careful.

"First rule would have to be that you and I never meet in public, not till things are set."

"A fair rule."

"And second, if… _when_ we find another way to break this curse, another way for me to break free, you won't hesitate. You'll let me go."

Silence spread between them for a long moment and finally Josiah nodded, extending his hand. "I will."

Robert reached forward and grasped it, the shake between them solidifying the secret alliance, and the Revenant wasn't sure if he'd paved the way to his salvation or his final damnation with the deal struck.

"I have to get back… there's a lot to do and Sheriff Barkley wants to deputize me first thing tomorrow. The man's just lookin' for a way out."

"He never signed up for this."

"But I did," Josiah said firmly. "I will fix this." He held Robert's gaze for a moment and finally started to turn, pausing halfway around. "You said Robert Svane is dead…. What do you go by now?"

"Bobo."

The young Earp turned his nose up. "That's strange."

Robert shrugged. "It was given to me. Who am I to turn it down?"

"Just Bobo?"

"Working on finding more. Anything but who I was. He's gone, and I gotta learn to live with that. No reason to hold onto a dead man's name."

Josiah nodded slowly. "Best of luck to you, Bobo. This will work."

With that bold statement he turned and left into the night, Robert standing there alone in the woods with hope and dread weighing down heavy on his shoulders.

* * *

Notes: I've been thinking a lot about Josiah Earp lately and this happened. It did my heart some good to have at least one Earp following after Robert for once instead of the other way around.


	34. One Night

**One Night**

Summary: When Bobo surprises Willa with a trip to the Big City and a hotel room, it doesn't turn out exactly as she expected. Set during the treehouse years. Valentine's Day fic.

They didn't exactly have a conventional relationship, not that Willa would have known first hand what all that entailed. She had read enough, though, and when she was younger she had watched movies and television shows with her sisters. Dates were normal. Dinner, the movies, drinks, and sometimes something a bit more adventurous. Not that dating Robert was anything like the movies, if it could even be called dating. It was still new, an exploration of taking what had turned into a trusted friendship to the next level. He was hesitant, like he spent half the time trying to talk himself out of whatever his first instinct was, and they rarely left the treehouse, much less the surrounding area. After nearly a decade since he had told the Seven that he'd killed the young Earp Heir he was still afraid that someone would catch sight of her or notice her. It took every trick she knew just to get him to wander in the woods with her or lie out under the stars by the lake. Romantic gestures weren't a natural inclination for him, so it would seem, especially not when they conflicted with whatever he thought he needed to do to keep her safe.

Every now and again he surprised her though.

Willa watched the world pass by in silence from the passenger's seat of a car that she hadn't known Robert knew how to drive. She had seen him as more of a blur on one of the many motorcycles that he had owned over the years when she was a child, but the idea of him driving a car like any normal person had never crossed her mind. Just like the idea that he would have cared about a silly holiday like Valentine's Day enough to take her on the rare trip away from the treehouse hadn't even been a dream she had let herself consider. Now that they were on their way it was all she could do to contain her excitement.

Robert, on the other hand, was more stoic than usual. His clear blue gaze was fixed on the road in front of them, only shifting to look in the mirrors every couple of minutes. He hadn't told her where they were going, but had shown up later than he'd said he would be there and had handed her a bag, instructing her to pack a few things. It had been vague, not that that was particularly unusual for him. He wasn't the type to share any more than he had to, even with her most days, and if he was doing his best to find somewhere special to take her then she was okay with a few secrets.

As the snow-covered countryside sped by, their car flying across the open road, Willa found herself wondering why so many Revenants stayed in Purgatory. It was the curse, she supposed as she leaned her forehead against the cold glass. Always the curse, and the curse always landed the Heir in Purgatory. It pushed the Revenants, coercing them. Even the ones that might not have been quite as bloodthirsty in life became demons, driven to hound and kill each and every Earp Heir. She'd heard Robert describe it like that, the words dancing off his tongue as he rolled his eyes a little, but he'd never told her who he was quoting. It would be easier if they left, but she knew he wouldn't, not until he could cross the line and leave for good. Even a cage as large as the Ghost River Triangle was still a cage, though most days she wished her own was even half that size.

She was staying for him, though, she reminded herself. So that in a few years when she turned twenty-seven they could walk across the line hand in hand and Robert would be free to leave with her. It was worth that, and she knew that he had his reasons for staying in Purgatory.

Hazel eyes flickered to the city lights that she saw as the topped a hill and she sat up. "We're going to the city?"

"Yeah," Robert huffed from the driver's seat, the first word that he'd said since they had left their little town.

It wasn't like there were too many other places that he physically could go other than the wilderness between Purgatory and the Big City, and while Robert might have managed it without too much trouble, he would know she'd prefer to stay in the treehouse to freezing her ass off in the middle of nowhere. Still, this had never been an option that he had brought up before.

They drove up to a hotel. It was nice. It seemed nice, anyway. She really wasn't sure she was the best judge, but the fact that someone offered to take her bag was more than anything that would have happened in Purgatory, nearly ten years since she'd out and about in town or not. She watched Robert move, a cap pulled low so that it hid his hair and a scarf wrapped up around his chin so that the white patch in his beard would draw fewer eyes. Fewer Revenants resided in the Big City, but that didn't mean that one or two wouldn't go, and if they saw him with the supposed-dead Earp Heir, it would put him in a complicated place. He'd told them that he had killed her years ago. Once inside, though, they should be safe. Revenants wouldn't really fit in with this crowd.

"C'mon," he said gruffly and grabbed her bag from the floor in front of her before she could bend for it herself.

"Slow down. It's not a race," she grumbled lightly, having to jog a little to catch up with his long stride and doing her best to ignore the paranoid way that his gaze shifted to all corners of the lobby. "Hey." She reached out as he stepped into the elevator, her fingers catching his free hand. "What's the rush? You excited to get upstairs?" she teased, hoping to ease what she thought must have been nerves.

A soft growl escaped him and she grinned, her fingers lacing through his as the elevator doors closed, leaving them alone for their trip to the sixth floor that he had punched. She leaned into him, her head resting against his arm. "I'm glad we're doing this."

Robert stiffened a little next to her. "Exactly what is it do you think we're doing?"

She snorted. "Okay, you can drop it. I know I don't get out much, but I do know what today is. I just didn't think you'd… I don't know, go to all this effort? I mean, most days you'd flip out if I even suggested this, telling me it was too risky and-"

"What do you mean what today is?" he cut in as the doors opened and Willa pulled back a little to see that he looked genuinely confused.

"Are you serious?"

"What do you think this is? A vacation?" He snapped out the last word and jerked forward, pulling her with him as he moved. Willa followed, confusion immediately filling the void that the retreating excitement had left behind.

He slid the key card in and the light blinked green, allowing them into the room closest to the stairwell, and he all but dragged her inside. Without explanation he turned and bolted the door shut behind them, her bag still in his hand. It was only then that Willa realized that he didn't have one of his own. "Robert, I think you need to tell me right now what's going on."

The man she loved turned, finally dropping her bag and a breath left him as he pulled the cap from his head. "Ran into some of the boys before I could slip away this evening," he said.

He started to unravel his scarf, slipping past her and Willa watched him carefully as she shrugged her own overcoat from her shoulders. "That's not unusual."

Robert hummed softly. "Jack."

The name struck and Willa suppressed a shudder. He was one of the Seven that had taken her that night, and in the terrible few hours that they had her before Robert had shown up and hauled her away Jack had been one of the ones to terrify her the most. There was something in his eyes that left her chilled to her core even more than the rest of them. "What bout him?" His teeth clicked together audibly and Willa caught his eyes. "Robert, you're not going to get away with sidestepping this one. Not when you drag me all the way here, make me think….."

Dark brows drew together. "What'd you think this was?"

All at once she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. This was stupid. What had she been thinking? That Robert had taken her on a romantic getaway weekend like a normal man might have? That he'd pulled his head out of his own plans, his own scheming for five minutes to make her feel like a normal woman for a night, maybe even two? Dinner, drinks, maybe a movie, and a chance to wake up with him the next morning. It all sounded so far fetched now, and the more she turned it over in her mind the more heated her face felt.

"Willa?"

"I thought this was a Valentine's weekend getaway," she mumbled, hating the mousy sound of her own voice as it escaped.

He stared at her for a long moment, blinking owlishly at her, and finally he took a heavy seat on the bed, a soft sound escaping him as he did. "You thought…."

"It was stupid, okay? Of course it'd be something having to do with your idiot pack of Revenants. I just don't know why you thought you needed to drag me all the way out here."

"He brought you up."

"Good for him. He thinks I'm dead, what does it matter?"

"Willa, if they found out-"

"Oh don't start," she snapped and a small part of her knew she was fueling the misplaced anger so that she could push aside her own embarrassment. "You fall back on that every damn time you want something from me. Stay in the treehouse. Don't go out to the lake. And if _I_ had suggested this, boy…. You and I both know how that would have ended. I would have gotten a lecture about how dangerous they are and how much is at stake. You know what, Robert? They don't know I'm alive. No one but you and me know I'm alive, so you can take a breath and order us some food while I go take a bath in an actual bathtub with bubbles and the works, because I know you're not gonna agree to go down to the restaurant downstairs because maybe - just _maybe_ \- we might be seen!" Her hands were flying as she spoke, the words coming out on a single, long, angry breath.

"Willa, I need to get back to Purgatory. I need to make sure-"

"You do that and I won't be here when you get back." His jaw snapped shut and she watched him stiffen, her own anger boiling over. "That's right. You go and you lose your ticket out of here. Your call." With that, she turned into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her hard enough to rattle the wall.

She stood on the other side of the door for half a beat, anger warring with guilt and shifting violently back to anger. She stomped over to the faucet to run the bath water as hot as she thought she could stand it and began to strip down, her clothes falling to the floor and her hands shaking as she unfastened her hair from its braid.

Then she heard it. She couldn't be sure with the sound of the water pouring from the faucet and into the tub, but it sounded like a door closing softly. It could have been one of the other doors in the long hallway. It had to be. Robert wouldn't have left. No matter how angry he was, he wouldn't risk it, would he?

No, of course not.

That decided Willa stepped into the tub, pins and needles running up and down her legs as she sank deeper into the hot water, finally taking a seat in the deep bath. She leaned back, letting the heat loosen muscles and work at the stress from the evening. They were fine, she promised herself. Robert was just out there sulking, possibly even feeling like as big of an idiot for worrying over stupid Jack as she had been for thinking he was actually taking her somewhere nice for just a little slice of normal in their strange lives.

Willa slipped down, her shoulders sinking under the surface and her hair floated around her as she glared at the falling water. Immortal or not, the man was going to worry himself to death. He put too much pressure on himself. The Revenants, the Heirs. She knew that each death still weighed on him to at least some degree, and as much as he snarled any time Wyatt Earp's name might be mentioned, Willa knew him. He might hate him, but not nearly as much as he loved the man. Once he decided someone was worthy of his loyalty he was there to the end. And that was why he would be there when she decided that he had suffered long enough by himself.

She leaned forward and turned the water flow down and then finally off, the only sound following that of her shifting back to lean against the tub's end. Everything else was quiet. There was no shuffling, no sound of the news or even squeak of the bed as he took a seat to pull out a book. A book that he wouldn't have because he hadn't brought a bag. He had just planned to drop her off in a new cage and leave her.

Frustration bubbled again and Willa listened hard, hearing nothing. After a long moment she let herself slip beneath the surface of the water, coming back up a handful of seconds later for breath and to scrub shampoo and conditioner through her hair hard enough that it hurt. From there she reached for the soap and her long bath turned into a quick dip, the silence from beyond the door driving her mad. It was stupid. She knew it was stupid. He was right on the other side.

Willa jerked the stopper out from the drain and stood, wrapping a towel around herself and squeezing the excess water from her long, dark blonde hair before reaching for a robe. It was soft and she tied it around herself as relaxing evening drained away.

There was no point in putting it off. She moved the door and took a breath, steadying herself with a story to explain why she was _not_ making sure that the one person she trusted in the entire world hadn't betrayed that trust by leaving her all alone. Once she'd settled on something reasonable enough she pulled the door open and stepped out into an empty room.

He was gone.

It felt like a kick to the gut. He was gone. He'd left.

Her breathing hitched as she half-stumbled into the room like he might be hidden away in a corner somewhere. There was no sign of anything left behind. He'd taken his scarf and the cap he had worn and he had left her to her decision. He'd gone back to Purgatory, so focused on whatever enemy he saw looming in the shadows that he couldn't see how much she needed him there with her that night. How much the woman that loved him wanted him there.

The room blurred around her and Willa blinked hard, hot tears sliding down her face and she let her knees buckle beneath her, sinking to the floor in a heap as she tried to drag air into her lungs. It hurt. It hurt to breathe and to think and to feel. Everything hurt and he was gone.

A click drew her attention and Willa turned back towards the door, finding it opening up and she pulled her robe a little closer around her, ready for whatever fight was about to come her way. A familiar face appeared, though, and paused in the opening, blue eyes meeting hazel. "Willa, what happened?"

"You left, you jackass," she managed to choke out.

She watched his expression shift to confusion to pain to regret. "I went downstairs. Hotels don't keep bubbles. Guess some might, I wouldn't know, but this one doesn't." He held up a bag. "But they've got a corner store with it."

"I thought you went back to Purgatory."

"You made it pretty damn clear you didn't want me to," he murmured, and she didn't miss the sharpness in his words.

Willa pushed back hard against the tears. She wasn't a weeper. She had never been a weeper. Damn the man. "Wouldn't want to lose your ticket out."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You know damn well that ain't why I stay."

"I know," she admitted softly and saw his stance ease a little.

Robert set the bag down and suddenly he was squatted down on his heels in front of her, reaching forward to thumb at the tears. "I wouldn't leave you," he said, his voice a little gentler, even if it was still rough and strained, and his palm came to rest on her cheek. "Not 'cause you're my ticket out. You know it's more than that, don't you? For me, it's so much more than that."

Willa swallowed hard, finding that intense blue gaze locked on her and his face just inches away from hers. When she found her voice again it was barely above a whisper. "How so?"

He leaned in, shifting to his knee in front of her, and then he was kissing her. It was warm and gentle, and she knew he was trying to tell her, but she needed him to say it. As they broke, as her eyes fluttered open again and she found him so close to her, her lips parted to tell him just that, but a sharp knock at the door drew both of their attentions.

Robert eased a little. "Dinner," he acknowledged, standing.

Willa loosed a shaky breath as he moved to let them bring it in and she picked herself up off the floor with as much dignity as possible. He'd ordered a nice dinner, the trays covered and a bottle of what she could only assume was nice wine on the cart that was being left behind as Robert handed the young man a few bills and shuffled him back out. He turned, lifting his hand up to run it along his mohawk and removing the hat again with it. He tossed it on the bed. "You hungry?"

"Starved," she said, not realizing it until that moment.

He worked at opening the bottle as she uncovered the trays, more than a little frustrated with it by the time she took it away and had it open in just a few seconds. He shot her a funny look and she shrugged. "You think Daddy just drank whisky?"

"Ward didn't deserve you girls."

Willa hummed noncommittally and reached for a plate. The steak was cooked just the way she liked it - funny, because she was sure that she hadn't actually had steak since before the Revenants invaded her home and her life had been turned more upside down than a future-Heir's childhood was anyway - and she took a seat at the little desk to start cutting into it, accepting the glass of wine that Robert handed her.

They ate in silence for several long, excruciating moments, Robert having taken a seat on the floor next to the bed and eating his own steak like he hadn't had anything in a week. It was possible, she supposed. He did forget to eat sometimes. And sleep. It drove her mad. The day the curse broke that was going to have to change or he was going to run himself into the ground more than he already did.

"Are you ready to tell me what had you so spooked tonight?" Willa ventured carefully, doing her best to keep her tone neutral.

Robert was staring at his food - or what was left of it - and he frowned deeply. She watched him turn over his phrasing and his approach, leaving her to talk herself out of sighing loudly until he pulled in a breath to speak. "There's always someone lookin' for a way to knock the man on top off," he said after a long moment. "The first sign for blood, of weakness. There's a few I keep my eye on. Some of 'em might have a chance, but most of 'em are just stupid. Red had been pitchin' a fit all afternoon. Drunk off his ass, nearly arrested in broad daylight."

"Damn," Willa breathed.

"I handled it. It happens. Red wasn't the issue."

"You said it was Jack."

"Yeah," he breathed out and she didn't miss the way he winced a little. "Jack's one of the ones I watch carefully. He… pushes. Like Lou used to. Doesn't get that you've got to give to get. All he wants is to get. Take, take, take." His teeth snapped loudly and Willa set what was left of her food down on the little desk and moved to sit next to him on the floor. Robert didn't look at her, didn't move, but she thought she saw the muscles in his shoulders ease just a little. It was easier to see without that giant coat of his on.

Blue eyes slid open and he pushed a breath out in the form of a growl. "We exchanged words, he didn't like 'em, we got into it. Long the way your name got dropped. Could be nothing, could mean he was gloating. That he had Revenants loyal to him going to the treehouse right then to grab you. To…" They closed again and she definitely saw him wince that time.

Willa shifted so that she was facing him, reaching her hand to touch his face and he leaned into it, almost nuzzling her palm. "I won't ever let 'em touch you again," he swore softly. "If it costs me everything, I'll keep them away from you."

Guilt worked its way through her and she could hear the rawness in his voice. She leaned in, her lips pressing against the center of his for a moment before they moved to the corner, then down, a kiss against the white patch in his beard and down his jawline to his neck. She heard him moan, feeling a hand come up to land on her arm, but she didn't stop, her own hand drifting up to start tugging at the layers of clothes he was wearing. He moved to help her and together they started stripping them away as she returned briefly to kissing his his lips, her hands traveling up under his shirt, ready to take that from him as well.

Robert pulled back suddenly, a pained sound leaving him and she froze.

Neither of them moved for a long moment, her hands resting against his skin and him leaned back against the bed, his head tilted back so that she could barely see the way his eyes were squeezed shut, lines deep in his face from the pain that she had caused. Willa swallowed hard, readying herself, and lifted the edge of his henley up to find long, half-healed marks across his torso. They'd been bad when the wounds had been dealt, from what she could tell, but his quick healing worked in his favour as muscle and skin knitted back together at a rate that a human couldn't dream of.

He'd said that that he and Jack had gotten into it.

"Robert," she breathed and that seemed to snap him out of it.

He sat up, his eyes catching hers. "I'm alright."

"Bullshit."

Somehow that pulled a smile out of him and he leaned forward and kissed her again. It was soft and gentle, those nimble fingers of his playing along the edge of her jaw as he drew her closer. "I will be."

"How often does this happen?" she asked, not sure she wanted the answer.

From the look in his eyes, she could tell he didn't want to answer. Even so, he pushed a long breath out through his nose. "Just depends. Things settle down after an Heir dies. Into a sort of rhythm, but like I said. There are a few. Jack won't be a problem for another few years now."

"What'd you do to him?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes."

"Broke his neck."

"Good."

He chuckled and settled back against the end of the bed. Willa shifted up to grab her glass of wine before joining him again on the floor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she settled in, leaned half against his chest. She sipped on it and could feel his fingers teasing at her wet hair. She felt him slowly relaxing against her and she loosed a long breath. "Robert?"

"Mmm?"

"How am I more than your ticket out of here?"

Part of her regretted asking the moment the words left her. She knew that she was. If she thought he didn't care for her she never would have pushed him for a relationship. Things would have just continued as they were and she would have decided if she wanted to stay or go. Perhaps she could have come back for him when she turned twenty-seven, but it hadn't been that simple. It hadn't just been a friendship, and she had known she wasn't the only one that felt that way. It was in the way his features softened and the looks he didn't think she saw. It was in the touches that he immediately pulled back on and the way that Bobo Del Rey, the Revenant that could somehow convince a horde of demons to do what he wanted them to even against their own nature, had stumbled over his own words, unable to string together a simple sentence.

Like now. Just like now.

"My father died in the Civil War," he said very slowly after a long pause, and Willa nestled a little closer, listening intently to the rare story from his life before demondom. "My mother… never really recovered. She survived it, but in her own way I'm not sure she outlived him." He paused, his voice so soft that it almost didn't sound like him. "I asked her about it once, right before I left out from home. Asked her why she never married again if she was so lonely and she told me…. That swans mate for life. The moment she chose my father and he chose her, they were in it for life."

Willa let the words sink in for a moment, her free hand seeking out Robert's. He took it and her fingers wrapped around his.

"I don't think I'm any different, even now," he continued. "Wyatt used to give me hell 'bout women, but I…. I just never saw the point in somethin' that wouldn't last." He pulled her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. "The thought burning at my brain since I woke up in Purgatory after Wyatt died was to get free of this curse I didn't deserve. By any means necessary, I wanted free. Didn't put a lot of thought into what came after. Now… Long as I walk across with you, anything's worth it. I wanna cross it to spend the rest of my life with you."

She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. "I'm your swan?"

"Yeah."

"For life?"

"For life. I don't know how to do this halfway, Willa. If you aren't in all the way, tell me now, because I am."

A smile tugged at her lips and she nodded. "I'm in. For life."

She could feel him smile - that real smile that was so rare - as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. "I love you."

"I love you too," she confessed, the words lightening the stress of the evening as she focused on his arm around her and the way he was still pressing his nose into her wet hair. "Are you going to stay tonight?"

"They can wait 'till the mornin'."

"Good. I don't want to wake up without you."

He mumbled something she couldn't quite understand and it may have been more of an affectionate sound than anything. He pulled back after a moment. "Is it really Valentine's Day?"

Willa laughed, shaking her head. "You're an idiot."

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her again, the rest of the world and the struggles they faced melting away if only for one night.


	35. Don't Be Afraid

**Don't Be Afraid**

Summary: Hell follows Bobo into his dreams.

Set in the treehouse years and fulfilling an Angst/Fluff prompt from Tumblr: #86: "Don't be scared, I'm right here."

* * *

Most people had an idea of what hell would be like, if they believed in it or not. Robert Svane had believed in it without reservation, but he never could have wrapped his mind around exactly what that meant. The pain didn't stop. There was no relief to the flames or the way that they ripped at him, tearing and clawing away skin and muscle straight down to the bone before he blinked and it began again, somehow reaching another level of pain every time. He could feel it tearing at his very soul, burning away what he had been, and every time that he thought it had burned the last shred away, it found something more. There had to be a limit, even in the afterlife, but each time he thought he reached it his screams had grown a little louder, his throat a little more raw.

There was no escaping it. No corner to hide in or place to seek even momentary relief. When the flames relented, that's when the ghosts approached. They weren't real. There was a part of his mind that knew that. His father, his mother, brother and sister and their descendants. Some he knew personally, others from a distance, but they didn't belong here. That didn't stop their judgement that weighed against him like stones piled on his chest until they crushed him. He couldn't breathe, could barely think, but he could hear them and all the disappointment that they heaped on him. Shovels of dirt to bury him alive. He choked and sputtered and even cried. Everyone had their breaking point, even Bobo Del Rey.

And then there was the one he was certain was an illusion cooked up to cause him the most pain. He knew the footsteps even as he curled into himself on the hard ground, exposed no matter how he turned. They echoed and sounded in the emptiness that had chosen to surround him where he lay in that particular moment, finally coming to a stop next to him. Bobo didn't turn. He knew who stood over him, and it wasn't until a steel-toed boot dug into one of his many wounds, cracked bones shifting at the pressure, that he risked a look around.

The face was familiar, yet not. He knew it well enough to see the subtle differences in the way his lips tugged down and there was something around the eyes that sent a chill through him even as his flesh burned. He tried to focus on the creature that had taken Wyatt Earp's face and spoke with Wyatt Earp's voice, but his vision pulsed in and out, leaving him feeling sick.

"You're exactly where you belong," not-Wyatt old him. "Ain't no mistake. Ain't something you don't deserve. You've earned your place here tenfold."

Fire ripped through him and Bobo's back arched as a scream tore from him, Wyatt's name escaping chapped lips on a breath and it was the last one in his lungs. Any attempt to pull air back in to replace it left him gasping and sputtering.

" _Robert?"_

He twitched and convulsed against it, a pained whimper all he could manage as he heard not-Wyatt detail out each and every sin he had committed. Every life that had been taken directly or indirectly, every Heir that he'd failed to protect. One by one the names were listed off with gruesome details as if Bobo didn't recall each one of Wyatt's descendants that had been strung up after they had been killed. The Seven hadn't been able to make it on the Earp land, but they'd tossed the rope over the entrance and tied Josiah, Edwin, and Ward up. Trophies for them, reminders for him, of a promise he'd never quite been able to keep to himself.

Liar.

Murderer.

Traitor.

The list went on and on, all in Wyatt's voice. All true.

" _Robert_."

Blue eyes met Wyatt's own hazel ones and he found only disappointment there. "You became one of them. Our enemies."

"What would you have had me do?" the Revenant finally choked out. " _What_? What would you have done in my place?"

"I never would have been in your place."

" _Robert, wake up_!"

He jolted hard, eyes snapping open and suddenly he was looking at a wooden roof above him, barely distinguishable in the dim light. The air around him was chilled, not burning. Every muscle in his body was tensed and aching, fingers clawing at bed sheets, and his knees were bent like he had been kicking at an unseen enemy, the quilt he had been sleeping under piled at the end of the bed.

"Robert?"

Blue eyes moved immediately to the source of the question and the world tinged red as a snarl left him, deep and dangerous to warn any enemy exactly what he was capable of.

It hadn't been an enemy though. Instead his sharp gaze landed on Willa Earp who sat on the bed with him, her expression part worried and part wary.

"It's dangerous to wake me up from a nightmare," he grumbled, doing his best to ease his muscles and the red faded from his vision. His back still burned against the sheets, though, and he wondered how he didn't set them on fire.

"It was a bad one," she said quietly.

He huffed. "Even more dangerous then."

Willa loosed a long breath from her nose and he felt her shift in the bed next to him. Slowly, carefully, she eased back down and he realized why he had been sleeping on his back as she returned to her place against his chest. She settled in there, one arm draped across his middle, and he felt her fingers reach for his at his side. "Tell me about it?"

"No."

There was a pause and he knew the word had been too rough. He couldn't help it. He was still reeling from his mind's determination to drag him back to hell all over again.

"It might help."

"It won't."

Her fingers were playing over the rough skin across his knuckles now, the touch gentle and he focused on it. It helped ground him in where they were rather than where he had been. Where he might eventually have to go back to.

"You don't have to do it on your own," she said softly. "I know I can't… take it away anymore than you can take mine away, but it helps. I promise it does."

"What?"

"Not fighting it alone."

Bobo thought of the times when it had been Willa that had woken with her screams. It had taken a while, but eventually she had trusted him enough to share the fears that had been drowning her. Now she was asking him to do the same.

"I was in hell," he managed, and his throat felt dryer than it should have, like a few of those flames had followed him out of the nightmare. He felt her hand flatten against his, her fingers curling under his palm and he cleared his throat. "Wyatt was there. Not Wyatt, but looked like him."

"How do you know it wasn't Wyatt?"

Bobo opened his mouth to respond, but snapped his jaw shut. Because Wyatt wouldn't be in hell. "Just did."

Willa hummed softly and snuggled in closer to him. He could feel her breath on his bare chest and the way her fingers moved against his palm. It was soothing, and for just a moment he dared to let his eyes drift closed again.

Immediately he saw fire and he tensed.

"Robert? Robert, open your eyes."

Bobo did as instructed and found himself in the treehouse once more, Willa half sitting up and leaning over him. She bent down, her long hair ticking skin, and her lips pressed against his for a long moment. "You don't have to be afraid," she whispered against him. "I'm right here." She squeezed his hand before releasing it, bringing it up to his face and she held his gaze. "And you're never going to have to go back. I'm going to make sure of it. You're not alone anymore."

He stared up at her, the words working through him and the truth of it settling in. For the first time in over a century he had someone both willing and capable of standing beside him. Someone that he could trust and that trusted him in return. "I'm not very good at not being alone," he managed, his voice rough and pained and more honest than it could be anywhere else.

It pulled a soft smile from her. "I know. Guess we figure that out together, huh?"

"Guess so." He lifted a hand, long fingers tucking a strand of blonde hair back behind her ear. After hell, he hadn't been sure he would ever be capable of truly loving someone, but there she was and he had been powerless to fight against it. He didn't want to.

Willa eased back down, nestling into the crook of his shoulder and her hand found his. "Get some sleep, Robert. I'm right here."

He felt his own lips tug into a small smile and kissed the top of her head before letting his eyes slip closed again. As he drifted back to sleep, even with hell's flames having been at his heels, she kept him safe and as close to peace as he'd been in over a hundred years.


	36. Seeing Ghosts

**Seeing Ghosts**

 **Summary** : Bobo Del Rey has been stuck in that well for quite a while now and he isn't sure if his sanity has finally snapped or if she's really there.

* * *

It had been raining. He assumed it was rain. It had sounded against the wooden door to his stone cage, and the water dripped down steadily for hours. He found himself counting the drops at one point. Drip drip drip drip. Tap tap tap tap tap. One, two, three, four five, six, eight… no. Start again. Something had distracted him between two numbers and that ruined the whole game. He could start again. He had time.

A chill ran up his spine and Bobo shivered against it, his fingers twitching and flexing stiffly against the cold that was settling in around him. Cold and damp, the direct opposite from hell. He liked this weather. Well, he did when the rain didn't drip down with aggravating consistency onto the ground so that he couldn't even sleep without hearing it. Not that he slept much. He tilted his head back so that he would have been staring at the slab of wood over the well had his eyes not slipped closed.

Bobo had lost track of how long it'd been since Holliday had thrown him down the well. The wounds in his chest were long-since healed, even if the blood had stained the front of his formerly white straight jacket. It wasn't so white anymore. Between dirt and the blood and general filth at the bottom of the well, it was hard to tell it ever had been. It was dingy and dirty, the edges and the straps that had once bound his arms were frayed. His hair was growing out, longer than he'd kept it in decades now. Matted and filthy, he could feel it clinging to the back of his neck with the thick, wet air all around him.

He was on his feet instantly, a growl leaving his throat the moment that one of the drips had shifted through the slats and had landed cold and wet against his upturned face.

"Are you planning to fight it?"

The Revenant spun, startled by the voice and finding the well just as it had been all the days he'd been in it: completely empty save for him.

"It doesn't look very steady. Maybe if you're patient enough the rain will rot it out."

He spun again, certain the voice had come from the other directly, but there was nothing.

"But then at least you wouldn't have to waste any energy on it."

Bobo snarled as he lashed out towards the sound of the voice, but he stopped mid-blow, frozen and staring at a pair of amused hazel eyes, that little smirk on familiar lips that said she was teasing him, waiting to rile him.

"Breathe, Robert. You're not dead yet."

"But you are," he choked out, slamming back against the wall that was just as unyielding that day as it had been when he'd nearly beaten his fists raw against it after the first few weeks trapped with all of his options for escape exhausted.

Willa's smile didn't fade. In fact, it grew a little, the amusement dancing in her eyes as she tilted her head and watched him, his fingers digging into the rough rocks behind him like he might be able to claw his way out. She wasn't real. She couldn't be. Wynonna had killed her and she was gone.

But she'd killed him too. Maybe she wasn't.

"I am," she confirmed, that smile remaining. "You must be truly lonely to be willing to face my ghost for a little company. Who's next? Wyatt?"

A feral sound left him, low and rough and it would have terrified anyone else, but not her. Never her.

She wasn't there. Or at least she wasn't alive. Did he believe in ghosts? He'd never seen one. He hadn't seen a demon before Bulshar Clootie though. Demons, angels, who was to say that ghosts couldn't haunt?

"Hey."

He turned, spinning so fast that he stumbled across the well, finding that she'd disappeared and reappeared. "Why are you here?"

"You tell me."

His teeth clicked together loudly and the water dripped down on his head again. He loosed a frustrated howl, the sound directed at the rain above, and Willa laughed at him.

He spun on her and everything flashed red. "It's funny, is it?"

She didn't answer and when his vision cleared enough he saw that he was alone again. Maybe he always had been.

* * *

The rain finally stopped, but not until after the well had flooded to the point that there hadn't been a dry place left to sit. After standing - and pacing and leaning and hopping up and down while howling his curses at the uncaring prison - for four straight days he had finally given up, the stamina that came with demondom eventually failing him. He sat heavily in the puddle, his breath showing in the chill.

"They're not coming for you."

He yelped, halfway to his feet again before one knee gave way and he found himself face down in the filthy water.

No laughter followed the time, and as he pulled himself up he saw Willa merely staring at him. "My master will come," he answered automatically, his voice raspy from the endless hours of screaming at the rain, and her gaze turned a little sad.

"Is that what you want? For Bulshar to come for you? The Demon Clootie?"

He growled at her, the question making his head ache. Yes. No. No. Don't question it. Don't think about it.

"Or are you hoping for someone else?"

She was watching him expectedly. _They're not coming for you_ , she said. _They_. He cut the thought off before the pounding in his head increased. "Ain't nobody else."

"There's not," she said plainly, and he couldn't meet her eyes. "There never has been. You know what you get when you try to trust an Earp."

* * *

The summer heat left the well stifling. Some days he had trouble breathing through it, but at least the puddles dried quicker. He'd learned to hate the rain as it flooded his cage. He'd learned to hate the chill that came with it. Give the heat time, though, and he'd remember that he hated that too.

"Aren't you hungry?"

He didn't flinch at her voice anymore, no matter how long it was between. He'd finally just accepted it. It wasn't like anyone else was there to talk to. Not her either, really, but apparently his mind decides it liked torturing him. "Conistantly."

"They haven't even come by. Do you think they've forgotten you're here?"

Bobo reached up to massage the bridge of his nose. "Who?"

"Take your pick."

He pushed a long breath out through his nose. She could have meant anyone. Clootie, the Earps…. He was a little surprised Holliday hadn't come to gloat. He was a bastard. Maybe he hadn't told Wynonna that he'd stored the Revenant in his old stomping grounds. That'd be just about right. Leave him down there to rot. Everyone did. It wasn't overly surprising that Doc Holliday joined each generation of Earp that had screwed him over in one way or another.

"What happens if they never come? Can Revenants starve?"

Bobo shrugged, squatting down on the sticky ground and drawing a long finger through the mud. "Haven't yet."

Willa looked up, her gaze curious as she studied the cage door. "Would you even know if they looked in? Maybe they're watching." She was quiet for a long moment and he finally looked over at her to find her gaze fixed on him. "Or maybe you're not worth remembering."

"Bingo," he huffed and she snorted a mirthless laugh. Bobo stood, but he didn't straighten. Instead he remained half bent over, shoulders hunched and he held her gaze. She looked so real. "What 'bout you, Willa? Do you remember me?"

"Robert," she said, her voice sad and she raised a hand like she might touch his face. He moved towards it, the desperate feeling sudden and clawing, but as he reached out for her she faded, her words echoing without a form to be spoken from. "I'm not here."

* * *

He didn't see her for a long time after that. How long, he wasn't sure. The days melted together too badly, folding in and clinging to each other until hours had no real meaning anymore. There was just this moment and that moment. The painful clawing at his mind as something - someone, he wasn't a fool - worked at him to completely and utterly shatter him through and through. He swayed back and forth from wild screaming to silent stretches where he did nothing but curl up on the hard, rocky floor of his cell and try to decide if there was anything left of himself worth fighting for.

The chill had set in… sometime ago, leaving him curled into himself. Revenants always ran warm, but without his coat he could see the tips of his fingers turning blue, snow piling on his wood cage door above, and there was nowhere to go for warmth. He was dying. He thought he might be dying, even if it didn't stick. He just wished Wynonna would come and get it over with.

He'd taken to talking to Willa these days, even if she didn't answer anymore. He talked and talked and talked, anything to take his mind off of the cold and the constant intrusion into his mind. The solitude he was used to. That was fine. He was pretty sure that was fine.

"I miss you," he rasped one night into the darkness of his cage.

"Do you miss me or the thought of me?"

Bobo's lungs burned as he drew in a sharp breath from his place huddled in one corner. He couldn't see her in the darkness, but he could almost feel her. If she was there or not didn't really matter anymore. He just wanted to believe that she was.

"Both," he said at last.

"What do you miss about me?"

He swallowed hard, folding his arms a little closer into his body. "Miss the way your laugh reached your eyes," he managed, feeling more exhausted in that moment than he had since he'd been thrown in. "Your voice when you read and the way you told me we'd get out. The way you reminded me it was worth fightin'."

"You've fought a long time, Robert. No one would blame you for giving in."

He pushed a breath out through his nose and it was so cold it burned. "You did."

Silence followed and he thought he'd run her off again. After a long moment he heard his ghost sigh and instead of a chill as he felt her move past, he felt warmth. He could feel that warmth settle in next to him and he was drawn to it. She didn't say anything as he tilted over, and he was half surprised to find her solid as he laid his head down in her lap, her hand stroking his long hair.

"I would have given anything for you," he managed after a long moment, his voice trembling more than he would have expected.

"Everyone has their limit to what they can take," Willa answered softly.

A mirthless chuckle huffed out of him. "Yeah, 'cept me. Even when I reach it, I can't get out. I got no choice but to keep goin'. Even now…. If I let go I'll be back a few minutes later and it starts again. I don't get to go to where you're at."

"Would you want to?"

He squeezed his eyes closed and he felt something warm and wet slip free. It didn't stay warm for long in the freezing cold. "I wanna hate you."

"No one holds a grudge quite like you," she teased him softly and he turned to look at her, squinting up in the dark.

"I tried to save you, Willa, and I couldn't."

"That wasn't your fault."

"I loved you, and I couldn't save you."

She leaned down and he felt that warmth spread through him as she kissed him. His Willa. His love. Nothing about this life was fair, not for either of them. Maybe she was right. Maybe everyone had their limits, even him.

Bobo felt the warmth swallowed him up, her fingers working through his hair as he let himself drift.

He woke some time later alone, light flooding the well so that it blinded him and his dead love's name was on his lips.

"Wrong Earp," a voice said from above.

He looked up, shielding his eyes from the too-bright sun as he squinted at the familiar face staring down at him. A wild smile tugged at his lips as he recognized Wynonna Earp. He was getting out, one way or the other.

* * *

Notes: I started this when that awesome photo of Mikey's new hair was released and finally came back to it today. Poor Bobo. I hope he gets out of the well pretty quickly.


	37. Not Like Him

**Not Like Him**

Future Fic. When Clootie gets ahold of Bobo to use as bait to lure out Wynonna, the last thing the Revenant expects is for her to come for him.

* * *

The blow to the head had left his vision pulsing, but it had been the hit to the back that had driven him to his knees, hitting the frozen ground hard. He couldn't move, couldn't straighten himself up in time to see the steel toed boot that slammed into his ribs, sending him crashing the rest of the way to the ground.

Bobo Del Rey lay on his black in the snow, desperately trying to draw air into his lungs even though each breath brought new spikes of pain with it. His vision was going in and out and he knew he needed to pull himself up or the next blow would hurt even more.

Not that he'd get very far, and Clootie knew that.

He heard the demon's low chuckle before he was able to focus in on where he'd leaned into his line of sight, nudging his battered ribs hard enough to draw a pained gasp from him. Bobo swallowed it back, clenching his teeth stubbornly and narrowing his eyes up at him.

They had gotten ahold of him on the edge of town, the newly formed alliance with the Earps still on shaky ground when it came to handling them and the handful of Revenants that had remained loyal to him when Clootie had called them all in. He was still fighting Bulshar's control himself, and he'd missed… something. Even now he wasn't sure what, but if they had caught up to him just five minutes later they would have had Waverly as well. He was questioning his ability to get himself out of this at the moment, but he knew he wouldn't have been able to get both of them out.

Clootie had never been fond of being ignored. He bent down and took hold of Bobo's dual-coloured hair, hauling him up and drawing pained yelp from him. "You will useful to me, Robert, if you choose to be or not."

Bobo dragged a painful breath in, the air burning his lungs and he could almost feel the cracked ribs shifting dangerously. He struggled to get his feet under him to keep from being held up by his hair and his boots caught a patch of ice. He heard the satisfied laugh that left the demon as he released him, Bobo slamming hard back to the ground and he writhed for a moment, no room in his mind for anything but the overwhelming pain.

Slowly it started to creep back, letting him work through it enough to focus his eyes. He didn't like the look on Clootie's face.

A howl echoed across the field as the heavy boot slammed down on Bobo's outstretched leg, the blow strengthened by Bulshar's demonic powers and Bobo could feel the snap radiate through his entire body.

"There we go," Clootie chuckled. "We need them to hear you."

The words took a moment to work through the pain, but even as the spots dancing across his vision blocked out the cloudy sky above him, a rough laugh managed to escape. Joke was on Clootie if he thought he was using the Revenant as bait. There was no way in hell Wynonna Earp was coming for him.

He wasn't sure how long he was out, but he came around to voices. They filtered slowly through the fog of pain that came with consciousness, and he was having trouble opening his eyes so that he could see who the voices belonged to belonged to.

"You can't just move him! What if his neck is broken or something?"

"Waves, he's a Revenant. Even if he did break it, it'll heal. We have to get him out of here."

"Or we can just leave him."

"That's _not_ an option."

"I'm just sayin' they didn' leave him out here for nothin'. Bulshar's usin' 'im for somethin'."

A low groan escaped Bobo and he finally forced his eyes open. He found three faces coming into view immediately: Waverly, Haught, and…. He groaned again, this time louder. "Didn't think you'd be that stupid," he managed, his gaze catching Wynonna's.

"We came to rescue you. You're welcome, asshole," she snapped.

He knew he should be grateful. He hadn't expected it, hadn't dared to hope for it. It seemed like every time they had a chance to choose to trust him or not, they went with the latter. But here they were, leaned over him and trying to help, and it had to be the one time that it could get the Heir killed and blow everything to hell.

"Clootie knew you would," he managed through gritted teeth. "That was the point."

A strange expression crossed Wynonna's face and he thought it might have been guilt. "C'mon. Dolls, help me get him up."

"If they're coming, you need to go," the deputy marshal said as he moved towards the injured Revenant. "Doc and I will get him someplace safe."

Bobo tensed immediately at the reference to John Henry and he turned as menacing of a glare as he could manage on the gunslinger who was proving to hold a grudge as strong as Bobo's own. This was going to hurt.

"I'm not going to-" Wynonna started, but was cut off.

"We got this," Holliday said firmly. "We're not what Clootie wants. Go."

Well, at least he could depend on Holliday having one priority set.

Wynonna hesitated a moment before turning a stern look on Bobo. "He doesn't get to win and he doesn't get any of us in the fight. You got it?"

"He gets you then he's won," Bobo said lowly, his voice more strained than he was comfortable with. He could already feel his body pulling him back towards unconsciousness, the brief conversation sapping his energy.

She watched him for a long moment before Waverly pulled her back. "They're coming."

He watched indecision flash across her face, but it was brief. She nodded firmly, shot Doc Holliday a look, and was in her way.

Suddenly Dolls had ahold of his arm. "This is going to hurt," he warned, and hauled Bobo to his feet. The Revenant felt gravity try to fight him and moved to catch himself, but is leg wouldn't hold his weight and he found himself pitching forward and back into darkness.

* * *

If Bobo came to at any point in the escape, he didn't remember it. The next time his brain was able to register that there was anything happening around him at all he found himself staring up at a ceiling, not an open sky. He shifted, regretting it instantly as pain exploded and it took a long moment for him to get his bearings back. He laid there, jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut against it. As the worst of it finally eased he could feel sheets wrapped up in his death grip and he forced himself to loosen his hold, making sure to lie very still this time.

He had no idea where he was. He was lying on a bed in a room, but past that he didn't recognize it. Slowly and very, very carefully he turned his head to get a better look. There was an old, painted bedside table pushed up between the bed and the wall, the white and green checkered lamp and a teddy bear that had seen better days the only occupants to it. The ceiling had been normal enough, but the walls were a pale yellow, almost as if they had faded over the years. He let his gaze follow the wall around, having something to focus on helping to pull him around a little better.

There were a few other odds and ends scattered within his line of sight, but for the most part the room looked like it hadn't been lived in in some time. It certainly didn't look like some place Clootie would have stored him away if he'd gotten hold of him.

Movement at the door startled him and he grunted against the pain, trying to focus through it to see who was standing there. Blue eyes finally focused in on Purgatory's sheriff, standing with his arms crossed irritability across his chest. "Nedley," he managed, his voice hoarse and scratchy as it left his lips. He cleared his throat, pushing down the urge to sit up. It wouldn't help the balance of power if he passed out again.

"You know," the other man drawled, "I really need to start asking before I agree to one if Wynonna's favours."

Bobo blinked at him for a moment. "Where am I?"

"My house. Wynonna needed somewhere off the beaten path to let you heal up."

"And you volunteered?" the Revenant asked skeptically.

"Like I said, need to clarify favours before I agree." He took a step forward as Bobo started to try to move. "Listen, you're not in great shape. That leg's... what?"

A smirk quirked Bobo's lips and he held Nedley's gaze long enough that the other man started to shift uncomfortably. There he was. The years had toughened him up, but Bobo could see the signs of the young cop that had worked under Ward, fumbling through trying to figure Purgatory out from the lawman's side of things and getting no real help from the half-drunken Earp. The one that had desperately tried to regain control over the town after Ward's death and had learned the hard way that it couldn't be done without Bobo Del Rey. He had tried, but it had crashed into utter chaos for several weeks following the Heir's death and the Revenant leader had let it, his attention focused elsewhere and perfectly happy to leave the new sheriff to realize just what Purgatory would be without him. The lesson had been hard learned, but Nedley had finally realized just where the power lay in town and he had stopped trying to topple Bobo off his throne.

Bobo needed that power now. Even laid out in a bed that could have only belonged to a young Chrissy Nedley growing up, the healing process barely begun even though it had been hours since the injuries had been dealt, he refused to look as weak as he felt.

Nedley pulled in a deep breath, seeming to try to steady himself. He met Bobo's gaze and pushed the air back out through his nose. "You know, I remember the first time I came across you. Fresh into the police department you look like everything that shouldn't be happening in our town. I thought Ward was working some sort of angle with you for a while, and then nothing. Every time I'd come close to one of your boys he'd stop me."

"Ward knew how it worked," Bobo answered, the words riding out on a low growl and he didn't miss the way Nedley flinched when his eyes flashed red.

"Got him killed in the end," he managed after a moment. "His father too, and I imagine his father before that. Now Wynonna is striking deals with you."

"And you don't approve?"

"Wynonna Earp will do what she's gonna do, but you don't have the best track record with helping Earps."

Bobo settled a little deeper into the pillows under him, narrowing his eyes as he did.

"She trusts you though. Hell if I know why. You're not different than any of the others, maybe worse."

"Oh I'm much worse," Bobo agreed with viscous grin. "Comes with the territory, but you know that much by now."

"I do. I know what you are - knew even before Dolls came to town - and this may be my one chance, so I want to make something clear." He didn't step any closer, but Bobo thought he saw the sheriff square his shoulders a bit. "I'm not going to let you do to Wynonna what you've done to the others."

The statement was simple enough and the threat was clear, even if they both knew there was no way to back it up. As soon as Bobo was on his feet again he would be fully capable of crushing the sheriff at his whim if he so chose. Even so, there he was making his opinion abundantly clear. Bobo wasn't sure if he it was bravery or foolishness.

After a long moment of silence from the Revenant Nedley cleared his throat awkwardly, pulling his attention back around. Bobo was actively and openly working with Wynonna now, and with that - if he liked it or not - meant working with those around her. Even those that he had purposefully kept out of the loop up until that point. That wasn't weakness, he reminded himself. That was just the price of alliances.

Bobo winced and grit his teeth stubbornly, shifting so that he forced himself up in his elbows, the closest he could get to sitting. There was a rush of pain, but he didn't black out. That seemed like a good sign. At least a step in the right direction, even if he could still feel the painful pull against his battered ribs and even into his leg with the shifting of weight. He swallowed hard before speaking. "At this point, we all survive this together or we all die together, and I ain't goin' back to hell."

Nedley eyed him for a moment. "And you think Wynonna's got what it takes to beat this…. demon."

"She better or we're all screwed."

He could see the sheriff weighing the words, trying to decide what he thought about them and the whole ordeal. He didn't know Bobo's past. Few did beyond Wynonna. Nedley certain't didn't, and Bobo had no interest in sharing that particular bit of history openly even if it might make things a little easier in that moment.

Nedley's phone began to buzz in his pocket and he pulled it out,glancing at the ID before turning what was likely supposed to be a stern look on Bobo. "Don't move."

The sarcastic response never quite made it from the Revenant's lips as he eased himself back against the pillows, the conversation and movement leaving him spent. At least he could feel the healing starting to take place. It was slow, but there'd been plenty of damage done.

He must have dozed off again, because when he worked his way towards wakefulness again he could hear two voices at the bedroom door. One was Nedley's, gruff and irritable, and as Bobo listed harder he thought the other belonged to Wynonna Earp.

"...was that son of a bitch Benny."

"You thought it might be."

"It was too convenient that he just happened to know where Bulshar had Bobo that last. Loyalty my ass." Wynonna huffed a mirthless laugh. "He got what was coming to him. Maybe that'll keep others from turning."

"I wouldn't count on it. They're not exactly the honest types." Bobo could feel Nedley's gaze slide over to him, but he didn't move. "I know you say you trust him, and he knows what to say to make it sound like the truth, but I still can't place what he's getting out of this."

There was a stretch of silence and Wynonna sighed. "It's…. complicated, but I trust that he's going to do whatever he thinks he has to to bring Clootie down."

"Why?"

He wasn't sure if she was holding back on his past out of respect to his privacy or if she just didn't think anyone who hadn't seen it would believe it. It didn't matter. Randy Nedley didn't need to know. "Just like I said," Bobo said, drawing their attention to him as he forced his eyes open, "I have no intention of goin' back to hell. Breakin' the curse should handle that."

Nedley huffed and shook his head, moving out the door and leaving Wynonna standing there awkwardly. She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "He might-"

"Easier the devil you know than the one you don't," Bobo murmured and she nodded.

"I guess." She turned her gaze down to her boots. "How're you feeling?"

"Healing. Slowly, but healing."

"Yeah, you're slow healing is still something humans would be jealous of."

"Steep price for it."

"Do you really think killing Bulshar will end the curse?"

Bobo let his eyes slip closed for a moment, considering his words carefully. "Hope so."

"What happens to you then?"

"Don't know for sure."

"Just not hell."

He opened his eyes and they flashed dangerously. "I'm not goin' back."

"Gotcha," she said, raising her hands in a nonthreatening manner. "Listen… I should let you get some rest. I just wanted to check in and…."

"Ain't your fault," he breathed and her gaze snapped to meet his. He could see it there. It was the same look she'd had as she stooped over him lying in the snow, broken and beaten and bleeding. Guilt. They didn't have time for her to wallow in it. "You got enough on you. What Clootie did to me was about my part in it. Him getting a chance at you was just his bonus." He narrowed his eyes. "A chance you shouldn't have given him."

Wynonna's gaze hardened at that. "Listen, asshole. You're part of this team now. We're not going to leave you to die. I'm not Wyatt."

The last statement took him by surprise and he let the words rattle around his mind for a moment. "No," he finally breathed. "No you are not."

She nodded. "Get some sleep and don't give Nedley too much hell. I think he's still pissed at you for poisoning the whole damn town."

Bobo's lips quirked up. "Gotta learn to let things go. Not like anybody actually died."

Wynonna rolled her eyes and shook her head, but he thought he saw the smallest flash of amusement in her eyes as she grumbled at him to get some sleep and that she'd be back later.

He settled back, left alone in the quiet room. No, Wynonna Earp was not her great great grandfather. She was better. He never thought he would admit it, even if just to himself, but she was better, and if he had read the situation right, that was how they were going to win.

* * *

Notes: I realized that we've never actually seen Nedley and Bobo interact face to face in canon and I feel like that needs to change in S3. It could be a lot of fun.


	38. Better

**Better**

Summary: Waverly is done waiting to find out who Bobo is to her. Future fic.

* * *

The look he was giving her was equal parts amused and put out, like he couldn't quite decide which side he fell on. She watched his gaze slide past her, pinpointing the others in the bar before leaning back in his chair and letting his gaze lock with hers. He didn't say anything for a long moment, and as they sat there in painstaking silence Waverly was beginning to question bringing it up at all. They were all in a relatively good place and the last thing she wanted to be responsible for was spooking Bobo away from their group before the final showdown with Bulshar. Not that he was going anywhere. Surely one question asked after several shots between then wouldn't send him running for the hills. Even if it were That Question.

Bobo pushed a long breath out through his nose, tongue flicking across thin lips before he reached for his glass. "I won't tell you that I've never lied to you," he drawled slowly, carefully, as if he were tasting each word as it left his mouth, "but I never once said that. Not to you, not to anybody." He took a drink, and frowned when he finished it off, reaching for the bottle between them.

Waverly bristled. "You did your damndest to imply it," she snapped. Okay, so the whisky was starting to get her better judgement. Right.

The Revenant hummed a little, closing his eyes like he was sifting through memories. After a long moment they popped open and he flashed her a wolffish smile. "Nope. Can't think of a time."

"Bulkshit." She blinked hard. "Bullshit," she corrected a beat later and reached for the bottle.

Bobo beat her to it, pulling it away. "Probably a sign you've had enough," he murmured, a small wink in her direction likely meant to lighten the mood, but instead all it did was infuriate her more. This was exactly the kind of _bullshit_ she was talking about.

"It's not funny," she argued, tugging the bottle away and if he let her have it or if she actually pulled it away, she couldn't be sure, but she liked to think it was the latter. "I've got all night."

He quirked one off-coloured eyebrow. "There's a redhead that might disagree with that statement."

"I mean I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers. I've been patient. _Really_ patient."

Bobo sighed and she saw an expression settle over him that said he was tired of the game. "Exactly what is it you think I know?"

"Why you wanted me to think you are my father."

"I never wanted you to think that," he said quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice that Waverly wouldn't have brushed passed on another day.

"Then why?"

"Why what, Angel?"

Waverly wasn't sure what expression flashed across her face, but it was enough that it made him flinch back from her. " _That_ ," she pressed. "You. The way you treated me as a kid. The fact that I was the only one you told the other Revenants was off limits. The fact that you…" She pulled in a breath, shaky and deep, and memories of her younger days flittered across her mind's eye. He'd been so gentle with her, so kind. She's never been afraid of him. When Willa was mean, Bobo was the one she'd gone to. When her father has treated her like he could barely stand to look at her, Bobo was the one that had gathered her up in his arms, wrapping that giant fur coat around them both, and let her cry into his chest until his shirt was soaked through. He'd been her playmate, her confidante, and the one that had first encouraged her love of history with a few well chosen antiques that he'd just _happened_ to have from the days of Wyatt Earp. He'd let her paint his nails and listened to stories that a four year old found most interesting. He'd saved her life.

"Waverly?"

She looked up, his voice low and stressed, and it was only then that she realized her vision was blurring. She blinked hard, the tears escaping, and she wiped at them irritably as they fell. "You're such an asshole," she growled. "I don't know what you think you're getting from this… keeping it from me. Is it some sort of a joke to you? Toy with the kid, make her dance, and when she's old enough to get it see what new ways you can manipulate her?"

Bobo's eyes narrowed a little. "No."

"Then what? Why…. when the man that was raising me couldn't even be a father to me, why did you…." She swallowed hard against the rising emotions and the words were drowned away with it.

It took a long moment for her to look up at him and she found that intense blue gaze locked on her. Something was playing across his memories behind those icy eyes of his, but she didn't know what. Like everything else, he kept it locked away. "You know what… fine."

"It's complicated," he breathed. "Dangerous, maybe."

"How can it be? Everybody but me probably knows. You told Doc we were kin, traded me off to Bulshar like you had some right to-"

"I got you away from him."

"That's not my _point_ ," she snapped, slamming both open palms against the old, wooden table so hard as she stood that the sound probably drew the attention of other patrons in the bar, but she didn't care. "Don't you get it? Everybody knows more about me than me!"

A small sound escaped him and she found herself quickly losing hope that he was going to give. Finally she shook her head and started to turn, but his hand reached out to snag hold of her wrist. The touch was light, and she could have broken it with only a little effort on her part, but she saw the conflict in his eyes. He stood, speaking so lowly that she had to take another step closer to hear him. "You are kin. You're not my daughter, but you're kin. I'm…. responsible for you."

Waverly rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that… some promise you made to Wynonna in the vision quest-"

"No." He stopped, his head bobbing a little from side to side. "Yes, but no. I didn't know your new name 'till Michelle said it."

The floor might as well have dropped out from under her. "What?"

"I had you brought to Purgatory, but I couldn't…. I needed you safe. I _wanted_ you safe." He met her eyes and she could see the strain there, the determination it was taking to force the honest words out. "So I asked the only two people who lived on protected land to take you."

"Ward and Michelle Earp."

"Yeah."

"But why?"

"I was all you had left," he said softly. "Not what you deserved…. Some demon as your only kin, but life ain't exactly fair. I did the best I could. Tried to, anyway."

Waverly let the words rattle around for a moment and she realized that his grip had closed a little tighter. She reached over, her hand on top of his, and she tried for a smile even though it was a weak attempt. "Hey." She waited until blue eyes flickered up to meet hers. "Thank you. For being honest. I know… it's probably not easy for you."

His lips twitched downward. "You deserved better 'n Ward."

The words were heavy with guilt that she wasn't used to hearing from him and Waverly moved forward without warning, wrapping her arms around his middle in a fierce hug that would have rivaled the ones she'd given him as a child. He froze, every muscle tensing under it, but she didn't let go. "I got better," she promised. "You made sure I did."


End file.
